


Divulgence

by HaleHole (SweetFanfics)



Series: Haven [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Action, Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, F/M, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Flashbacks, M/M, Magic-Users, Minor Allison Argent/Isaac Lahey/Scott McCall, Minor Vernon Boyd/Erica Reyes, Mythical Beings & Creatures, POV Alternating, Peter Hale is a Dick, Werewolf Derek, Werewolf Scott, cliffhanger ending, tragic background story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-19 07:54:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 64,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20327692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetFanfics/pseuds/HaleHole
Summary: 'I need your help. My friend, my best friend, he was hurt real bad two days ago! Like, almost dead kind of bad and he needs a healer or someone who can help. Please tell me you’ll help. I know that I’m in no position to ask anything of you but I’m begging you. Please help him!  I’ll do anything you want if you just.. If you just please save Scott.”The man’s plea was passionate and genuine, anyone could tell that. But should they help him out? Could they trust this stranger?--An Atlantis: The Lost Empire AU where Stiles has found the magical city of Haven. But will these shifters help him save Scott? And what's therealreason why Haven was founded? Stiles is about to find out.





	1. Chapter 1

Being woken up at the crack of dawn by a frantic Isaac babbling about capturing some human that had gotten through their protective wards was the last way Derek expected to be woken up on a Sunday morning. And wake up he did. His head jerked off the pillow when Isaac threw the door open with so much force it banged against the wall.

The angry snarl he had wanted to let out in response had been drowned under Isaac’s panicked, “You gotta get up Derek! We got an emergency and you need to wake your mom up!”

“What the hell could be so important?” Derek had snapped back, ready to fall back in bed and go back to sleep because _ nothing _ could justify this. But as soon as Isaac had explained what had happened, Derek had pushed himself up to his feet. As he tugged a shirt on, Derek asked, “Where’s the human now?”

“Erica and Boyd are guarding him in your mom’s office. We blindfolded him so he shouldn’t know where he is. How do you think he got in here?” 

Derek shrugged as he hurriedly pulled his jeans and boots on. Had his mom felt the human pass through the barrier? She must have. The other members of the Council must have felt the disturbance as well. Shit, this could be really bad.

“Go wake up Laura. I’ll get my mom,” Derek instructed Isaac, who ran down the hallway towards Laura’s room. Derek went in the opposite direction, brain racing a mile a minute. 

How was it possible that a human had managed to get past the wards? Wasn’t it impossible for any non-pack humans to pass through the barriers without an alpha’s permission? What the hell was any human doing so close to the city that they had managed to follow someone back to the city? What kind of mad determination did this human have that they’d managed to keep up with Boyd, Erica, and Isaac?

He heard footsteps approaching from in front of him. Derek skidded to a halt when he saw Talia turning the corner, face set in a grim expression. She looked like she’d been rudely awakened as well. Her hair was in tough tangles, she’d put her dressing gown on backwards, and had forgotten her slippers. 

“Mom.” He called out, hurrying to her side. “Did you-?”

She nodded, gesturing for him to fall in line behind him before speaking, “Yes. I felt the human pass through. It’s what woke me up. I was waiting for someone to show up with an explanation and then I heard Isaac barge in. Tell me what happened.”

“Isaa, Erica, and Boyd had snuck out to see the humans who’ve been trying to scale the mountain. The same camp that I went to check on two days ago. They were curious about what the humans were like and… well.”

Talia sighed, a long, tired, motherly sigh. Derek could relate. Of course the trio had snuck off to spy on some humans just because they were curious. Of all the people to do that, it’d be those three. Derek kept swearing that their curiosity was going to kill someone one of these days. 

“I suppose they were eavesdropping when the tribe chief had come to tell us that the humans were dangerously close to the cave entrance?”

Descending down the staircase, Derek made a wry expression, “Pretty sure they did.” 

Talia grumbled something under her breath that Derek missed because he heard someone hurrying down the stairs as well. He turned to find Laura rushing up to them, hands frantically tying her robe shut as she hurriedly asked, “Is it true? Some human broke through the wards?”

Derek quickly repeated the story Isaac had told him, letting Laura take her place behind their mother. As alpha heir, Laura’s place was on their mother’s right hand. And Derek, being the second oldest now, was to be Laura’s right hand. 

“Did Isaac say anything else? About the human?” Laura asked, tutting at him before tugging on his shirt. “You couldn’t find anything else to wear?”

Staring down at the maroon t-shirt, Derek muttered, “Shut up.” Like he had been thinking about what to wear after finding out that the city had been breached by some random human. “And no, he hadn’t.”

“Where _ is _ Isaac? I thought he’d gone to get you?” Talia quickly interjected before the pair would start bickering.

With a quick hand wave, Laura gestured out the window, “Told him to go tell the other Council member’s what had happened. I figured they’ll come banging down on our door soon enough so I might as well send them a messenger right away. I also told him to tell the Council to convene at 8. That way you all can decide what needs to be done.”

Talia nodded firmly, “Good call. They’ll want answers and it’ll be good for them to hear it from the person who caught the human.”

In the short silence that followed, Laura cracked her knuckles in quick succession - a nervous tell that she had been unsuccessfully trying to get rid of. She’d sucked a piece of her bottom lip into her mouth, chewing on it thoughtfully before murmuring, “He must be pretty athletic if he managed to keep up with Isaac.”

“Erica and Boyd were there too,” Derek reminded her.

“Hmm. Maybe not _ that _ athletic." The couple were human, waiting for their eighteenth birthday which was the minimum age before which any alpha would even consider offering the bite. But even then, the pair trained and lived alongside werewolves and other supernatural creatures - their skills and abilities were better than regular humans. “Still impressive.” Laura conceded, combing her hair using her fingers. 

“The more important thing is to figure out what this human wants. Why was he chasing Isaac and the others? What are these humans planning to do?” He glanced over at his mother as a worrying thought occurred to him, “You don’t think they came here just to find us, do you?” 

Frowning hard at the question, Talia replied, “I don’t know. We can only guess at this point. Tell me what happened next? After Isaac realized that the human was giving chase?” 

What had Isaac said…

Derek waited for them to pass by a startled looking maid before answering in a low voice, “They tried to lose him. They ran as hard and fast as they could, and you know Erica and Boyd are pretty fast even for humans, but the human kept up. He had some magic light so they couldn’t take advantage of the darkness.”

“Explains why they couldn’t lose him in the caves either,” Laura interrupted, “If he had a light to see where they were going then...”

Derek nodded before continuing, “And then they thought that the ward could do its job. That the human wouldn’t _ see _ the end of the cave in the first place. That he’d just see a dead end and he’d go back. But the human just pushed through the vines and fell on his face.” 

Talia frowned as she hastened her steps. 

“That sounds impossible,” Laura said to him, “If you’re not a pack human or someone the Council or an alpha approves off then you shouldn’t be able to go through the ward. That’s the whole point of it. Any human who has ill intentions can’t pass through the ward on his own.”

Grunting in agreement, the pair lapsed into silence for the rest of the walk. Talia didn’t look back not even once. Not until she stood in front of the closed doors of her office. Only then did she look back at them with a scrutinizing expression, silently making sure they were ready before throwing the doors open. 

The heavy doors opened slowly with mismatched groans. Boyd and Erica’s eyes snapped up at the sound, their bodies stiffening in the presence of their alpha before their gaze ticked over to Laura and himself. There was mild contrition in their eyes, like they knew and were ready to be punished for sneaking out of the city and bringing trouble back with them.

But mostly, they looked confused and worried. As proven by the way their eyes ticking worryingly towards the human kneeling between them in the middle of the room. Derek nodded at them both before looking down at the human. He was wearing heavy winter clothes - jacket, boots, gloves - but something was covering his face. It looked a lot like the scarf Cora had given Erica last Christmas. Derek eyed the scarf, raised an eyebrow at the pair as he silently asked, _‘Really?’_

The pair shrugged helplessly. _‘What else could we have done?’_ they asked in return.

“Did someone just come in?” The man asked, sounding more curious than worried as he tipped his head in consideration. Unaware of how everyone’s eyes were on him, the human snorted and turned towards Boyd, saying “You _ could _ answer _ one _ of my questions you know. It’s not like the world’s going to explode or anything if you do. I promise that’s not how the world is gonna end.”

Raising an eyebrow at the man’s dry tone, Derek turned his incredulous expression over at the pair. What kind of person would be so nonchalant in such a situation? Was the human not aware of how dire a circumstance he was in? Or did he just not care? Or was it an act?

Boyd gave the hooded man a long suffering look before explaining lowly, “He kept asking us all kinds of questions after he woke up. Wouldn’t shut up the whole way here.”

“I _ knew _ you could talk!” The human exclaimed with a grin. Erica raised her hand to gave the human a sharp slap on the head to get him to shut up, “Ow! Rude! You could just _ tell _ me to be quiet.”

“Because that worked _ so well _ the last time we tried that,” Erica snarked back without missing a beat.

“Wait. _ After _ he woke up?” Laura asked, smiling in incredulous amusement at the pair, “Did you knock him out?”

Erica’s grin was quick and gleeful. “Isaac’s doing.”

“I’m going to get a black eye I bet!” The man grumbled almost immediately, wriggling around as he tried to get into a more comfortable position. You’d think that having your feet and hands tied up would discourage the man from moving around but he kept at it until he was sitting with his back up against a chair leg. “Some way to welcome a guest.”

Boyd tossed Talia a look saying ‘See what I mean?’ 

His mother shook her head, trying to process everything she’d been told. And then there was Laura, who was pressing a curled finger up to her mouth in a poor attempt to hide her smile as the human rambled on about proper guest etiquette. While Erica grabbed the human by his shoulder and shook him, snapping at him to shut up, Derek gave Boyd a confused look of his own. What was this human’s plan? How was he not worried in the slightest that he had been kidnapped? Derek was wondering this when the man’s heart beat spiked suddenly, catching the attention of the Hales almost immediately. 

Their gazed snapped back on the human as he tried to push himself up on his feet, only to be stopped in a crouch when Boyd and Erica put a hand on each shoulder. But that didn’t deter the human. He struggled against their grips, almost shouting, “Listen! I need your help. My friend, my best friend, he was hurt real bad two days ago! Like, almost dead kind of bad and he needs a healer or someone who can help. _ Please _ tell me you’ll help. I know that I’m in no position to ask anything of you but I’m begging you. _ Please _ help him! I’ll do anything you want if you just.. If you just please save Scott.”

The man’s plea was passionate and genuine, anyone could tell that. But _ should _ they help him out? Could they trust this stranger? 

Derek felt himself thrown back to the time when Fenris had been brought into the city by Elizabeth and her friends. That situation had managed to turn out well, despite his misgivings and distrust of the human. The man had remained loyal to the city and his pack till his dying day. That’s what Elizabeth had told them when she had returned to the city after having buried her husband. But Fenris had been one man. One man who’s only goal had been to learn more about his family and then to live his life in peace. Helping _ this _ human however, would most likely mean helping his entire camp. A _ large _ group of humans they did not know and therefore, could not trust.

Derek glanced at Laura, wondering what she was thinking. But Laura was watching at their mother with a thoughtful look. It appeared that she was trying to suss out what their mother was thinking in the same way he was trying to read Laura. Despite the fact that she’d been dragged out of bed at the crack of dawn, Talia appeared a commanding figure as she stood before the human and considered his request. Because that’s what she had to be doing. If she hadn’t wanted to help him, she would have struck his suggestion down otherwise. She made up her mind quickly like that. So the fact that she had remained silent after the human had made his request was incredibly telling. Derek wondering what she was thinking about as she stared at the human being forced back down on his knees. 

“Should I tell Isaac to wake Deaton up?_ ” _ Derek asked in Gaelic, the language feeling rusty and heavy on his tongue after so many years of disuse.

His sister gave him a surprised look but it had nothing on Erica’s shocked expression.His mother didn’t reply to him. Didn’t even blink at his use of their old tongue before looking to Boyd and saying, in English, “Take that blindfold off.”

As Boyd stepped up to the man, Derek didn’t realize that he was holding his breath. He heard Isaac skid into the room, hurriedly closing the door behind them before coming to stand shoulder to shoulder with Derek. 

“What’re you doing back here?” Derek asked in a low whisper, “I thought you’d gone to tell the Council what had happened?”

“Wrote a bunch of letters explaining the situation and sent them off through fairy mail,” Isaac explained in a rush, “I figured it’d take too long if I went to everyone’s house and explained it so I just…”

Isaac made a wild flourish before hurriedly patting Derek’s arm to get his attention. He was pointing towards the human, who was blinking harshly as his eyes readjusted to the room that was slowly filling up with morning light. He had dark brown eyes which were slowly going over small group around him. Derek felt a familiar mix of resignation and irritation fill him at the shocked look the human was giving him. Derek was used to being stared at like that. And then the human noticed Isaac and _ stared _ . Derek glanced over at Isaac and the others, wondering if he’d been the only one to notice this oddity. When Derek was the only person in the room with the clearly monstrous shape, why as _ Isaac _ the one being stared at? Was the human still angry at how Isaac had taken him down? 

An indiscernible expression flitted over the human’s face. Derek was hard pressed to find a word to describe the mix of fear and excitement that glimmered behind those intelligent eyes. He swallowed quietly and licked his lips before asking, “You’re shifters, aren’t you? All of you.” 

Derek felt Isaac start slightly next to him Laura’s hands twitched against her side. Erica and Boyd gave the man sharp looks before looking at each other. They looked ready to pick him up and ‘take care’ of him. They all looked shaken by the certainty in the man’s voice. He knew the answer to his question even without them answering it. If this human knew about shifters then he probably had come all this way just to find the city. Derek flexed his claws, ready to help Boyd and Erica get rid of this human if their alpha said so.

Who, as a matter of fact, seemed to be the only person in the room apparently unaffected by the human’s question, “And what if we are?”

The man’s eyes shifted to stare at Talia, the side profile showing off his pert nose and moles dotting the side of his face. His eyes widened to a comical extent before his body sagged back, “Holy shit! Excuse my French but holy _ shit _ ! This is Haven, isn’t it? I’m actually _ in _ Haven?!”

A warning growl rumbled in his chest, drawing the man’s attention towards him. Fear was replaced with unbridled curiosity and delight as their eyes met. 

“It is!” The man crowed, wriggling with clear delight, “I can’t I actually fo- Shit.” And just as quickly, his good mood evaporated into a desperate look, “If you got a city this big then you _ must _ have a few healers around, right? _ Please _ tell me you do. If my friend doesn’t get some help he’s going to die!”

“What happened to him?” 

Derek gave his mother a confused look because what was she doing? Why was she humoring this human? And from the looks of it, her questions had taken the human by surprise as well. Although he recovered quick enough to answer her. He explained how his friend had gotten trapped under a terrible rock slide. He even gave the alpha a complete list of his friend’s injuries, as well as the efforts they’d been making to keep him alive over the past 48 hours.

“We’ve tried everything we can but we just don’t have the resources. We don’t have a healer or any herbs or anything! _ Please _ . _ Please _ help him.” The man begged with beseeching eyes turned towards Talia.

Silence descended over the room. Every one of them exchanged questioning looks, wondering what their alpha was going to decide. Derek met Laura’s eyes, quirking a questioning brow up and she gave him a small shrug in reply. So even _ she _ wasn’t sure what their mother was going to decide. The study was flooded with the sharp morning sunlight when Talia finally turned her gaze away from the human. The pale light made the red in her eyes shine when she turned to Isaac first.

“Go wake Deaton. Tell him what happened and to make whatever preparations he needs to make to help this man’s friend. Although I think he might already be awake and waiting for you.”

The human’s relieved sigh of, “Thank you. Holy shit, thank you so much.” Mixed in with Isaac’s loud footsteps as he ran out.

Next Talia turned to the two pack humans. “Erica. Boyd. Please take… I’m sorry, I didn’t ask your name.”

“Stiles. Call me Stiles.”

Derek saw Laura mouthing the name in confusion to herself before looking at him in pure bewilderment. Derek pulled a face in return - what kind of a name was _ Stiles _?

For the first time, Talia truly looked surprised as she eyed Stiles a moment. But then she repeated herself, “Please take Stiles downstairs to the kitchen. Get cook to give you an early breakfast. And soon as Isaac’s back, you will accompany Stiles back to his camp and bring back the young man who has been hurt. And you can untie him now. And make sure that his wounds are tended too.” 

Erica pulled a knife out of her belt, blade gleaming as Boyd hefted Stiles up to his feet. The human hurriedly turned his back towards her and waited for her to cut the ropes off. This had Stiles facing Derek. And he was staring Derek like he was the answer to a question that had been haunting him for years and years. He was looking at Derek like he was the greatest thing he’d ever laid eyes on. 

Being the focus of Stiles’ look of revelation and delight was... unnerving. Incredibly unnerving. It made Derek want to fidget or walk out of Stiles’ sight. Derek had grown used to the lingering stares that some of the city folk were prone to giving him. They always looked at him the same way – with a great deal of pity. Everyone knew that he’d been cursed. And everyone looked at him and thought, “Poor Derek.” And in all his years of being cursed and living in this city, no one had ever looked at him the way Stiles was looking at him. Like he was the most fascinating thing Stiles had ever seen. Their eyes met and held for what felt like hours. Derek could feel his nervousness growing with every passing second. His hands twitched, ready to give up and just walk out if it would get this twisting feeling in his gut to go away.

It was only when Erica prodded Stiles’ ribs did the man yelp and break eye contact. He turned to glare at the blonde, glaring harder when she grinned at him, “You can stare at him later. Right now we need to get some food in you. Let’s go,” She ordered, poking him once more to get him to move towards the door.

“Alright already!” Stiles grumbled, dancing away from her sharp fingers. “You don’t have to man handle me! I can take a hint!” 

“If you knew how to take a hint then you wouldn’t have chased us and followed us back,” Boyd commented dryly. 

Stiles’ angry splutters were the last thing Derek heard before they stepped out of the room. Thankfully closing the door behind them. Derek waited until the humans’ heartbeats had grown distant before turning towards Talia. But Laura was far ahead of him. 

“Why did you agree to help?” She asked curiously, gesturing towards the door with one hand, “There was no need of it. We didn’t have to help him, much less let _ him _ live.”

“You’re forgetting the manner in which he showed up,” Talia reminded Laura with a meaningful look. Laura’s eyes widened as Talia continued, “He simply _ passed _ through the barrier, like he was one of us. We need to determine how and why that happened. I suspect there is more to that human than meets the eye.” 

Derek honestly doubted it but it wasn’t often that their mother was wrong so he kept his opinion to himself. Next to him, Laura was staring at the closed doors with a contemplative look on her face. 

“Do you hope to keep him here until his friend recovers?” She asked her mother carefully, who nodded firmly, “That could be dangerous. Despite the similarities, this situation is far different than what happened with Fenris. This human is going to come in with a lot more people.” 

Laura turned towards Derek, “How many humans did you say you saw in their camp Derek? When you went to check on them a few days ago?” 

He thought back to that cold night, trying to remember how many humans he’d counted. “Around 50 people I guess? It might have been a little more but they weren’t more than 70.” 

Laura gestured at Derek in a ‘there you have it’ manner, argument complete. If their mother agreed with Laura’s perspective that allowing this large group of strange humans to come into the town might spell trouble, she did not show it. Instead she stepped towards the door, twisting her hair into an untidy ponytail before letting it fall over one shoulder.

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take. There is something special about that boy and I wish to know _ how _ he got through our wards so easily. He shouldn’t have been able to - not without my permission. I’m going to get ready. Laura, I want you to get dressed and come down for breakfast. We’ll attend the Council meeting and convince them to let these humans in.”

* * *

Stiles was _ ready _ to be reamed out for his stupid actions when he’d led the others back to the base camp. He’d been ready for it. He knew that Gerard or Kate, or even Allison, might rip him a new one, and Stiles had been ready for it. He’d been ready for the worst verbal lashing of his life. But being slapped in the face by an angry Lydia as soon as he’d stepped foot inside the safe zone? That hadn’t been anywhere near his list. Was it lucky or unlucky that she’d slapped his left cheek? Now both sides of his face ached but at least it was better than just one side hurting like hell right?

The cracking sound had been loud enough to make several people stop mid-way through their activity and gawk. Stiles levelled them with a glare telling them to go back to their business before turning his attention back to Lydia. Who was quivering with rage.

“It could have been a trap!” She yelled at him, cheeks pink with anger.

Hand covering his warm, throbbing cheek, Stiles opened his mouth to argue back. He was ready to shout back that if he hadn’t followed them immediately then he never would have found Scott the help he desperately needed. He’d just _ saved _ Scott’s life. But then he saw the tears hovering in Lydia’s eyes, looking one blink away from falling down her face. And immediately Stiles’ anger melted out of him. Shit. He’d worried the hell out of his friends hadn’t he? 

“I... I didn’t think of that.” Stiles admitted quietly, “I just… saw them and… I didn’t think…”

“Of _course_ you didn’t think!” Lydia scolded him, “You just went off half-cocked on your own trying to play hero! Without _telling_ _anyone!_ What if something happened to you? What if they hadn’t led you back to the city? What if they hadn’t been friendly and had decided to kill you!”

Lydia’s tone sparked his own anger because he _ knew _ that. He _ understood _ that! He didn’t need Lydia talking down to him like he was a damn child!

“I wasn’t thinking about that!” Stiles cut in, ready to explain that all he had been thinking about was to find some help for Scott! Yes he had made a dumb decision that _ might _ have led to a terrible outcome but that _ hadn’t _ happened! 

Instead of anything horrible happening to him, Stiles had found help for Scott! _ And _ had found the city! Now he had come back to camp with the trio and this Deaton character, who were helping Allison get Scott ready for the journey back to the city. Everything was _ fine _ so why the hell was Lydia on his case?

“That’s your problem!” Lydia yelled back, not giving him a chance to get another word out, “You _ never _ think!” She completed her point by poking him in the chest, good and hard enough to hurt.

“That’s not fair!”

But Lydia was on a roll, ignoring the hand Danny lay on her arm. “You don’t get to talk about _ fair _ when you left us behind to chase someone in the dark! Why can’t you get it through your thick head that what you did was _ extremely _ dangerous and that you put yourself at incredible risk!”

Stiles glared and yelling back, “I wasn’t thinking about that!” Lydia took a step back and hit Danny’s chest, shocked that Stiles had raised his voice at her. He ignored the startled look that passed over her eyes and barreled on. “All I was thinking about was the fact that I had found someone who might know someone who could save Scott! That’s _ all _ I was thinking about! I was desperate for _ any _ help that I could find! I _ didn’t _ care about what might have happened me, that’s true. But I’d do it all over again for Scott.”

Someone next to them, clearly and deliberately cleared their throat. Annoyed, Stiles turned to glare at the intruder. Deaton didn’t flinch or blink upon receiving Stiles’ _ and _ Lydia’s angry looks. Instead, he took a step back to let them see Isaac and another shifter carry Scott out of his tent on a makeshift stretcher cobbled together with blankets and ... actually, where had they gotten the long sticks from? 

“Isaac and James are going to take your friend to the city first. Erica and Boyd will stay behind with Orla and guide the rest of you to the city at a slower pack. Whenever you’re ready.”

The bald man stood and waited, watching them as Lydia hissed, “We’re not through talking about this.” before stomping away, “And I’m coming with you!” 

Danny shot Stiles a worried look, “She’s right. We’re still going to talk about this later.” before hurrying after Lydia. 

Stiles watched Lydia’s braided hair sway with every step before sighing heavily. He hoped that Danny would take this opportunity to try and calm Lydia down but those words. Was he going to get lectured by Lydia _ and _ Danny when they caught him? Ugh. Fantastic. That old saying was right. No good deed really didn’t go unpunished. 

Scrubbing a tired hand across his face, Stiles turned to Deaton, “So, what’s the verdict. Please tell me you’ve got some good news.” Because Stiles wasn’t sure if he could stand more bad news. Not today.

Deaton gave him a sympathetic look, “I’m sorry,” Stiles cursed under his breath and tried not to let despair overtake him. A dull ringing began to overwhelm his hearing. He could feel his lungs constricting as they struggled to take air in. 

“There’s nothing I can do for him except make him more comfortable. Herbs, healing and medicine can only do so much.” Was the mountain moving? Were they experiencing a giant earthquake? Or was it just him who was swaying dangerously? “Maybe if he gotten proper help right after he had been hurt then your friend would have made it out alive. As it is... there’s little I can do to help him. Except to ease his suffering.”

No.

_ No _. 

This wasn’t happening.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

Stiles was ready to crouch down and hide his head between his knees for the rest of the trip and forget that the rest of the world existed when Erica said, “There _ is _another way. It’s a lot more extreme and there’s no guarantee it might work.”

Head shooting up, Stiles almost grabbed the blonde girl and shook her. Instead he gestured wildly at Deaton and asked, “Then why aren’t you doing it? Whatever it is, if it’s something that can save Scott then why aren’t you already…?”

The healer made a complicated expression as he turned to watch the small party swiftly walking away. “Doc?” Stiles asked, “Whatever this thing is, why haven’t you already tried it?”

“Because it is beyond my capabilities.” 

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

Stiles glared at the man, wondering if it would be bad manners to shake the answer out of him because the _ last thing _ Stiles had the patience for right now, while Scott’s life was hanging in the balance, was a cryptic dude sprouting... vague shit at him. 

Deaton noticed Stiles’ impatience and explained, “You’ll have to ask Alpha Hale for her help. I’m afraid I can’t tell you anything more than that. It’s her decision if she’s willing to try a more… unconventional method to try and help your friend.”

Alpha Hale? How could she help? And in a way that Deaton couldn’t? He frowned hard at the man before asking, “Can’t you just give me a straight answer? What kind of help does Scott need? How can alpha Hale help save Scott when you can’t?”

Deaton sighed, weighing something in his mind before he gestured for Stiles to come closer. “As I mentioned,” Deaton began in a low voice, “Scott’s injuries are beyond any healer or medic you might find in the city. However, you could appeal to alpha Hale, or any other alpha for that matter, to give Scott the bite.”

The bite? Stiles’ brain turned the word over and over again before hesitantly asking in the same low tone, “You mean, ask her to... change him into a... shifter? Is that what this bite is?”

“A werewolf. It would change your friend into a werewolf if Alpha Hale bit him,” Deaton corrected him quietly, pausing as a small group walked by. It was a group of guards, their packs strapped to their backs as they headed towards where Boyd, Erica, and a petite brunette were waiting for their camp to get ready to move out. 

It was only after the group had moved away that Deaton continued in the same low tone. “Werewolves have an advanced healing factor that would heal your friend within a few days. That is, _ if _ the bite takes and _ if _ alpha Hale agrees. And those are only _ two _of the biggest concerns in this matter.”

Feeling weak in the knees, Stiles’ voice shook as he asked, “What other... concerns are there?” 

Deaton gave him a mysterious smile and a pat on the shoulder. “Those are for Mr. McCall to consider, not you. Best friend or not, it is more Mr. McCall’s decision than anyone else’s.” 

Stiles was ready to argue back but Deaton was already off, briskly walking over to say something to Boyd before walking away in the same direction that Scott had gone. 

What the hell was that supposed to mean? Stiles had every damned right to know all the details about this ‘cure’ because that was his best friend. 

No. His _ brother _. 

Stiles had as much of a right to know as Allison did!

Speaking of whom. 

Stiles saw her walking up to him, holding her bag in her hand as she trudged over to him, “You look like shit,” He jumped away when she swung her bag at his legs before asking in a more serious tone, “How was he when he left? Did they say anything to you?” 

She shook her head, face drawn with tension and grief. “Still bad. Whatever that healer you found gave Scott… It _ did _ help but... he said it’s not going to be enough.”

“Did he tell you about... the other way? That might help Scott?” Stiles wasn’t sure why his voice had dropped down into a whisper.

Nodding, Allison responded in the same low tone. “He did. I think... I think that if there’s a shot then...” 

Stiles nodded in understanding, “Then we need to talk Scott into trying it at least.” His words seemed to sap something out of her, making her shoulders slump with relief. Had she thought that he would disagree with her?

“Dr. Deaton said that once we’re at the city, he’s going to give Scott something that’ll keep him awake and out of pain long enough to talk with one of the alpha’s,” Allison paused here frowning before she continued, “I forgot the name. But whoever it’s going to be, they’re going to talk to Scott and tell him what to expect. And then Scott...”

“Then Scott can make his decision,” Stiles finished with a heavy sigh, “Do you think they’ll let us stay with him when he has that talk?”

“I hope so,” Allison answered as she pulled her bag up her shoulders. He hoped that either he or Allison, or both, would be allowed to stay. And that wasn’t just his curiosity talking. The more he knew about what Scott might face, the better plan he could develop to help Scott in return. Because he wasn’t going to lose Scott.

Stiles had lost enough people as it was, and he wasn’t just counting this trip, and the last person that he was willing to lose was his brother. If Scott wasn’t interested then him and Allison were going to figure some way out to convince Scott to accept the bite. Then Scott would become a werewolf and would _ heal _ and be whole, healthy, happy again with a monthly furry problem that they were going to deal with eventually! 

That was the only acceptable outcome out of this. 

A sharp whistle flew through the air, capturing everyone’s attention in a split second. Standing on top of a rock, Erica cupped her hands loosely around her mouth and shouted, “Ten minutes and we’re leaving! Pack your shit and let’s get going!”

“She’s got a way with words, doesn’t she?” Stiles smirked at Allison.

Who smirked back at him, “Then she’ll fit in with the rest of us.”

* * *

He’d been pacing the corridor for almost half an hour, silently cursing the fact that the stone walls had been magicked to prevent any eavesdropping from happening, when the bedroom doors _ finally _ opened. 

Derek immediately halted his impatient pacing and quickly hurried over to intercept Laura who was walking out. Deaton was next, head bent as he said something to Talia. Giving his mother a quick nod, he wrapped his hand around Laura’s arm and gently pulled her away. As soon as they had turned the corner and were out of their mother’s eye line, Derek asked “Well?”

He knew that asking his mother for details would be met with silence or a mothering ‘It’s none of your concern Derek’. Laura was his best option to find out what had happened inside. And he so desperately wanted to know what they’d talked about. What the human had chosen. Instead of answering, Laura put her hand on top of Derek’s and used to drag him into the closest bedroom. She checked behind her to make sure they hadn’t been followed before closing and locking the door behind her. And now Derek was _ glad _ of the fact that no one could over heard them.

“His name is Scott McCall,” Laura quickly explained, ticking the points off on her finger tips, “and he was hurt _ a lot _ worse than Stiles had let on. Another day and he would have...” Laura grimaced before shuddering, “He was _ damn _lucky that Stiles accidentally saw Erica and the others or else he’d be dead by nightfall.”

That wasn’t the information that he wanted to know at all! Derek gestured impatiently from his spot on the bed, asking, “What about accepting the bite and joining the pack? What did he say? Did he agree to it?”

Laura nodded immediately, eyes widening,“ Yeah! After mom explained everything, he accepted! Even his wife was surprised. I don’t think she was expecting him to just agree to it but I guess he really didn’t want to die. Not yet anyways. Although he did look a bit… surprised that he’d have to stay here for a couple of months if the bite takes. He asked why and mom explained about how he’s going to need to anchor himself and everything,” Laura made a ‘blah blah blah’ gesture with her hands while rolling her eyes because she’d heard that lecture about a thousand times by now, “But long story short, he said yes.” 

“It seems too easy…” Derek murmured to himself, glancing in the direction of the room where the McCall’s were staying before giving Laura a quizzical look, “Doesn’t it?”

Laura hummed, plopping down into the nearest armchair with a flat fwomp. “If you were _ this _ close to death,” She held two fingers up with an inch of space between them, “and you were given a chance to live, wouldn’t you grab it with both hands? It’s a slim chance but it’s better than just lying back and accepting death. Besides which, he seems like a nice enough guy. I think he’d be a good addition to the pack.”

“Is that your ‘alpha heir’ senses talking again?” Derek asked dryly, dropping his hands down on the bed and leaning back. 

His sister shot him a sarcastic smile. It was a long standing joke in the family. Laura would often use her status as alpha heir to get away with a lot of things - getting the last brownie, picking what movie they were going to watch etc. To make a long story short, it was just a flimsy excuse Laura used to settle debates and or get her own way. Which was frequently.

“Possibly,” She replied icily, turning in the seat so that her legs were hanging off the arm, “Not that you’d get it, Mr. Antisocial Personality. Plus, mom approved of him so, you know he’s going to be alright. She’s got a great sense for people.”

If he had eyebrows in this form then they’d be up to his hairline. Derek still looked at Laura with surprise wide eyes because that was news. “She did?” 

Laura nodded immediately. Derek let his head fall back as he processed this. That was a surprise. There weren’t a lot of people who could make a good enough first impression that their mother would approve of them, “She actually _ said _ that?”

“Well. Not in so many words. You know how she is,” Laura began to kick her feet, letting the heels of her boots smack against the side of the armchair. “But she _ had _to have liked him or else she wouldn’t have him the bite there and then, right?”

_ What _? 

Derek jerked upright, causing the bed to squeak angrily at the sudden motion. He stared incredulously at Laura as he waited for her to laugh and tell him that she was only kidding. 

But instead, she kept swinging her feet lazily. “Yeah. I know!” She chortled when she caught sight of his gobsmacked expression, “That’s the face I made when she said that! I wasn’t expecting her to offer biting him right there and then! I had thought we were just going to explain the whole werewolf thing to the guy and the rules and baggage that came with it. Never thought that she’d offer the bite so quickly.”

“Did she say why? And did the bite take?” Derek was tempted to rush back to the room and check on the man himself. 

Laura seemed to sense this and was on her feet in a blink of an eye. She stood in front of him and pointed a warning finger at his nose, “Don’t even think about it. You know as well as I do that it’s too soon to tell right now. We’re going to have to wait and see.” 

Making a sour face, Derek crossed his arms over his chest with a huff. If there was anything he hated more than being forced into patience was when Laura was right about something.

“But did she explain _ why _ she was offering him the bite? It’s unusual, you can’t deny that. Everyone knows that mom’s one of those alpha’s who takes their time deciding who’re going to join the pack. Hell! The fastest she’s ever decided to give someone the bite was Lucy and even then she took a whole damn week!”

Laura sat down next to Derek on the bed, making the bed creak again, “You know her. She’s never one to share what she’s thinking, much less planning. Not with either of us. Plus, you can’t compare this situation with any of the other times mom’s gotten a petition. This guy was literally on death’s door. There wasn’t time to second guess this. Scott’s so damn lucky that mom liked him or else… who knows what would have happened.”

That was true. However, Derek couldn’t believe that their mother hadn’t at least told Laura why she’d made such a quick decision with this human. 

“But you’re alpha heir.” Derek argued. “If she’d explain herself to anyone in the family, it’d be you.”

With a heavy shrug and a sigh, Laura fell back on the bed, “But she didn’t. I can guess her motives but they’ll just be my guesses.”

“Why do you think she did it then?” Derek asked.

Laura pointed at him, “Do you remember what she said about Stiles? And how usual it was for a human to just... walk through the last barrier? The one that compels unwanted humans to go away, they see as a wall of rocks and no human can pass through unless mom or another alpha allows it?”

Derek nodded in annoyance, gesturing at Laura to get on with her point. He could easily recall the curious expression with which Talia had watched Stiles being led out of the room. 

“I think she’s trying to win Stiles over. Do him a huge favor so that he’ll feel indebted to us.” 

Laura’s finger moved to point over towards the far wall, pointing towards the bedroom where Scott McCall and his wife were staying, “If Scott manages to survive the night. If he manages to survive the change and turns into a werewolf...” The two fingers she’d held up turned into a lazy ‘voila’ gesture. 

“Then we’ve saved Stiles’ best friend and he’ll feel obliged to help _ us _ in return.” Derek finished slowly, realization dawning on him. Laura lightly slapped his shoulder in approval. However, that didn’t answer the other thing. He frowned at the wall and then at Laura when he asked, “But what kind of help does she expect him to give us?”

Laura shrugged heavily, “Knowledge I suppose. She’d want to know if his passing through was deliberate or an accident. Personally I suspect it was a complete accident. From what Erica and Boyd told me, he didn’t even seem to _ notice _ that a barrier was in place. He just...” She held her hands out as though she was pushing someone away, “pushed through the vines and stumbled through. A completely graceless entry. Erica said he fell right on his face.” 

He had to duck his head at that mental image, giving the carpet a fanged grin as he imagined the lanky human flailing and falling through the thick curtain of green vines. That _ must _ have been a funny sight. 

“Speaking of actually,” Laura chirped, swinging her legs as she got up to her feet. Her eyes had a wicked glint in them now. “What do you say we go check on him?”

“Him?” Derek asked in feigned surprise, ignoring the gentle tugs Laura was giving his arm to make him get up, “Stiles? He’s here?”

Laura shot him an unamused look and pulled him up on his feet, “Yes, he is. Don’t play coy. I know you saw him being escorted out of the room after Scott’s wife arrived. I saw you trying to hide behind the door.”

And here he’d thought no one else had caught sight of him when Stiles had been gently but firmly led out of the guest room. About fifteen minutes after Isaac and James had helped Emma shift Scott into the bed, and ten minutes after Talia and Laura had arrived to meet Scott, Allison and Stiles had burst into the room looking like they’d sprinted the last mile to the house.

Derek had hid behind the open door, listening carefully as Stiles asked how Scott was doing and when they were going to explain how the bite process worked. But then Talia had said it was a decision Scott and Scott alone had to make. So the details of that process were only for Scott, and Allison at most, to know.

After several minutes of arguing why he deserved to stay, Talia had told James to take Stiles to the next guest room and to keep him there. Derek had peered through the tiny gap between the open door and doorway to watch the dark skinned man gently push Stiles out of the room. Laura had been standing behind Allison, arms crossed as she’d watching Stiles being led out. 

Derek guessed she must have caught sight of him then.

“I _ know _ you’re curious about him. Don’t even try to deny it.” Laura sing-songed, coaxing him towards the doorway, “Let’s go see what we can find out about him.” 

Well. That was true. While there was a big part of him that wanted to run away from the man and his curiously bright eyes, there was an equally big part of him wanted to sit down and talk with Stiles. Derek had gotten the impression that Stiles was curious about shifters rather than afraid of them. The way he’d stared at Derek during their first meeting still lingered in Derek’s mind. 

It wasn’t every day that Derek met someone whose first reaction to seeing him was curious delight. And that was the thing wasn’t it? Stiles’ look held so much more than academic curiosity. He hadn’t looked at Derek like he was an object. He’d looked like… Like… Stiles had seen him in his beta form and done nothing more than suck in a quick breath of surprise. He had expected the human to yell that a monster was standing behind them or something in the same vein. But instead Stiles’ eyes had gone to his eyes, fangs, and claws and widened in _ awe _. 

He shouldn’t ask the next question (because he already had a good idea how Laura was going to answer), “And how do you know that I’m curious about him?”

Laura grinned back at him. “My alpha heir senses of course.” 

_ Of _ course.

Derek sighed and let himself be dragged off by his older sister. 

Story of his life.

* * *

Stiles’ plan, after being led to his room had been to wait a couple of minutes and then sneak his way back to Scott and Allison’s room. Once there, he’d eavesdrop on what was being said. And in case the talk went south, Stiles was going to burst into the room and tell Scott that if he didn’t accept the bite and live, Stiles was going to become a necromancer, learn how to bring Scott back and kill him all over again.

Fool proof plan. Only. There’d been a hitch in his plan. The same guy who’d walked him out of Scott’s room? Had been standing guard outside his own room. And that same guy was presently blinked in confusion down at Stiles, who was crouching on the floor with his hand on the open door’s handle.

“What are you doing?” The shifter, James, asked him slowly. 

Caught with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar, Stiles had hurriedly straightened up out of his ‘sneaking pose’ and asked, “So. Uuuh. I need to go to the bathroom. Mind telling me where it is?” 

Did they even have bathrooms here? Oh God that was a terribly classist of him wasn’t it? Just because the Hale house was a stone manor in a city cut off from the rest of the civilized world didn’t mean that they didn’t have indoor plumbing! Actually. Did they _ have _ indoor plumbing or did they have more of an outhouse kind of situation?

A thin eyebrow quirked up at him, unamused and unimpressed. Stiles got the impression that James had either not bought his story or thought he was being a classist jerk. But when he pointed behind Stiles, into the room, Stiles realized that James just thought he was an idiot, plain and simple, “There’s a bathroom right over there.” 

There was? 

Stiles turned his head around and stared at the simple wooden door that the man was pointing at. Taking a step back into the room, Stiles gestured at the same door with a questioning look before walking over. His curiosity about the plumbing situation in the city outweighed his desire to eavesdrop on alpha Hale and the McCall’s conversation. His brain was weird that way, he couldn’t help it.

Stiles wasn’t sure what to expect when he threw the door open. It was a little rustic but quaint. The floor was tiled with marble - cream with swirls of gold, grey, and black. The bottom half of the walls had the same tiles, with a thin white edging at the top. The rest of the walls were painted a crisp white color. The sink counter was on his left, right by the door, a long slab of marble that ran from one end of the wall to the other. About seven or eight feet all together if Stiles had to hazard a guess. A large mirror was mounted on the wall on top of the sink. The space under the sink was taken up by three small cabinets with round, golden knobs with a rose engraved on them. On the other side was an old fashioned shower and copper tub. And right behind the door was the toilet, complete with flushing lever. 

Indoor plumbing, hallelujah. 

“Huh…” Stiles declared, staring at the rose print shower curtains in bewilderment, “I was not expecting this.”

(Which, in the interest of full disclosure and honesty, had been the _ exact _thing he’d said when he’d stepped into Scott’s room and seen the wallpaper, comfy looking sofa, and bed.) 

Stepping in, Stiles began to explore. Most of the cabinets were empty. The one in the corner had some stuff in it - a sealed two-pack of toilet paper sitting next to a rusty old first aid kit. On top of the first aid kit lay an unopened toothbrush and tube of Pepsodent toothpaste. Stiles stared at the tube in utter disbelief for several long minutes because why on God’s green Earth would anyone willingly buy _ Pepsodent _? Shaking his head, Stiles closed the cabinet and checked the counter. There was a small, half used bar of soap sitting inside its tray. It stank of patchouli and made Stiles gag and put the tray back in its place. Next were a few bottles lined up against the corner. An almost finished bottle of cologne (Old Spice), three mini-bottles of shampoo and condition, and an empty bottle of painkillers. Stiles couldn’t deduce anything from that selection. 

He pressed his nose against the towels and took a careful sniff. Kind of musty but clean. In fact, Stiles took a deep sniff before realizing what the smell he’d been trying to pinpoint since he’d stepped into the house was! Sage and incense. That mystery solved, Stiles went to experiment with the shower. It was the old fashioned type with a giant shower head and a four spoke turn wheels attached above the tub. Stiles wondered if it actually worked. He twisted the red turn wheel hard before twisting the main knob open. It took a second for the shower to get going, making a lot of alarming clanking and clunking noises that made Stiles jump away from the tub. But then water came pouring out of the shower head. Stiles made a face at the brown water but it quickly gave way to clean water. Clean, _ hot _ water.

“Oh thank God!” Stiles moaned in delight as he turned his hand around to cup some of the hot water in his palm. He could already imagine taking a hot shower here. No! Wait! A hot _ bath _ ! There was a perfectly serviceable tub installed and Stiles would be an idiot to pass this opportunity up! It had been _ ages _ since he’d had a good long soak. It had been at least a couple of …

Holy shit, were those bath salts? Stiles quickly turned the shower off and leaned over to grab the first glass bottle he could get his hands on. So busy was he examining the line of bottles tucked away in the indented shelf near the tub head that Stiles missed the knock on the door. _ And _ the sound of someone walking into the room. However, he _ did _ notice that he wasn’t alone when he heard someone loudly clear their throat behind him. Jumping up to his feet, clutching the bottom of lemon bath salts in hand, Stiles turned around to see who had caught him unaware. 

A dark haired couple stood in the doorway, looking at him in clear amusement. Stiles recognized the pair immediately. They had been standing behind the alpha this morning. Her kidsprobably? The girl seemed amused but it was harder to tell with the guy. The lack of eyebrows and heavy frown lines of his shifter form seemed to say to Stiles that he looked annoyed and/or anger. At the very least he looked the opposite of amused. Not that he could be sure of that because what did Stiles know about the finer nuances of shifter expressions anyways. 

“Were you about to take a shower? We could come back later if you like,” The woman quipped, flashing him a grin.

Say what? Stiles peered at her in confusion before following her deliberate gaze down to his hands where he was clutching the tiny bath salt bottle for dear life. “Oh.” Stiles exclaimed with a short laugh. “No. I was just... exploring.”

That made the man’s eyes sharpen with interest. Stiles felt like a butterfly pinned down to a board the longer the man stared at him. Had he said something wrong? Stiles didn’t think he had? He knew that hadn’t made the best first impression and _ did _ have the amazing tendency to put his foot into his mouth an incredible number of times but _ surely _he couldn’t have fucked this up so soon. 

The woman however, seemed more than pleased with his answer. “Find anything interesting?”

“Uhh, not really? Besides the bath salts,” Stiles laughed self-consciously before turning to put the bottle back in its place. No way he was going to tell them that he was shocked at how _ modern _ everything was here. They had freaking indoor plumbing for God’s sake! 

“Oh! Where are my manners!” The woman exclaimed as Stiles turned back. She pointed at herself and then the man, “I’m Laura and this is my younger brother, Derek. Say hi Derek.”

Rolling his eyes, the man replied in a low growl, “I know how to greet someone Laura.” Laura made a face like she didn’t believe him but Derek missed it as he had turned his gaze towards Stiles. “Hi.” 

Stiles waited for something else to follow the word and blinked when nothing else followed. Derek stood there, arms crossed loosely across his chest as Laura sighed loudly, “Yeah. You really proved me wrong here.” Patting her brother’s impressive biceps, she threw a wry look at Stiles, “As you can see, he’s not that keen on speaking or big on people skills.”

Derek gave Laura a dirty look. “What else did you expect me to say? Should I have followed up with my complete history and a list of hobbies?”

“A ‘nice to meet you’ would have been a nice place to start,” Laura retorted in the same tone. 

The looks that they were giving each other meant one of two things. Stiles pointed between them and asked, “Siblings?”

Stiles grinned at the matching startled looks he got at that.

“How could you tell?” Laura asked in surprise.

Grinning at the pair, Stiles answered, “Just the way you both act.” 

Laura threw her head back with a laugh while Derek’s lips twitched in what almost certainly was an almost smile. Although with his fangs it looked a lot more menacing than normal.

“I like you!” The woman declared with a delighted grin. “Come. Sit with us.”

Turning on her heel, she walked back into the room. Derek gave him a tiny nod, gesturing for him to come along before following Laura’s footsteps. 

With a great deal of trepidation, Stiles stepped out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. He told himself to be careful. Even though alpha Hale had possibly helped save Scott’s life, she could still be up to something bad. She might have sent her kids to spy on him or to pump him for information. He needed to be careful.

Derek and Laura were sitting side by side on the small love seat under the window, which left the armchair as the best place to sit down for a chat. Stiles plonked right down, flailing slightly when he seat turned out to be softer than his expectations. He looked up at Laura’s muffled giggles, wondering what was so funny. 

“You weren’t expecting that were you?” She finally asked once she had her mirth under control.

With a short laugh, Stiles threw his arm out to gesture towards the room and answered, “No! I wasn’t expecting it at _ all _ ! Not the armchair or all these modern looking homes or the _ shower _ ! How did you guys set all this up? And I’m not even talking about the indoor plumbing because I got to admit, I was expecting things to be a lot less modern! Of course I wasn’t expecting a city as big as this either. I was kind of expecting a village or a town but this is a proper _ city _ ! How many people do you have living here? And are all of them shifters? Does everyone walk around shifted like Derek does or do they prefer looking human? _ Are _ there more humans around?” 

And it looked like his curiosity and excitement had gotten the better of his caution. Dammit.

Derek was flabbergasted at the speed of Stiles’ questions while Laura seemed more amused. “You’re a curious one. I should have expected that,” Her words made Stiles pause and give her a questioning look. But she waved her hand before speaking. “How about this. For every question of yours that we answer, _ you _ ’ll answer one of _ our _questions.”

After considering it for a moment, Stiles shrugged agreeably. It was a fair trade off and an easy way to get some answers. And that’s probably what they were looking for as well. Stiles knew that he’d be curious about the people who had just accidentally found their hidden city. He’d just be careful about what he shared about his group. Speaking of which, he needed to ask about that as well. Could he start with that? 

“You wanna ask first or can I?” Stiles asked with a hopeful lit at the end of his question.

The siblings exchanged a quick look before Derek asked, “Why did you come here?”

Deflating slightly, Stiles smiled wryly. A big question right off the bat huh? 

“To restore my grandfather’s name in the academic community on the outside. He’d spent his whole life saying that his city was real. Kept looking for clues and proof that would prove to everyone else that his place was real. He used to tell me and Scott stories about Haven when I we were growing. And not just the usual fairy tales that most people know! But proper stories about the different shifters that scholars said lived here.”

“He believed the city to be real?” Laura interrupted, leaning forward with a curious expression.

Stiles nodded. “Oh yeah! He believed it with all his heart. Spent all his life trying to prove to the greater academic and magic community that Haven exists.” He ducked his head, smile fading as he recalled just _ how _ many times and how _ hard _ the man had tried. “He pretty much wound up being treated as a joke because of his beliefs and how hard he tried to prove them. Go figure that in a world filled with magic, where magic allows us to do many seemingly impossible things, the thing that people can’t believe is that there’s a hidden city out there that’s populated by only shape shifters.” H uffing and shaking his head, Stiles muttered, “_That’s_ the impossible thing to believe in when we use magic every day.” 

He tried not to think about all the times _ he’ _d been told not to follow in his grandfather’s footsteps. Tried harder not to remember the few times a few tenured professors had flat out told him that if he were to pursue his grandfather’s goals, then he too would wind up being the biggest joke around the water cooler. Heaving a sigh, Stiles forced himself to smile at the pair. “He was an explorer. Was always going from one site to another, one trip to the next looking for any and all clues he could find. He’d come with pictures of texts and carvings and tell me what they’d mean. Lots of times they’d be stories about werewolves and other creatures.” 

With a softer smile that he directed down at his feet, Stiles continued, “He’s the reason I came here. This was his dream and I wanted... I just wanted to find _ some _ proof that I could take back home and prove to _ everyone _ that my grandfather was right.”

That was the ultimate goal. More than anything else! To rub the undeniable proof of Haven’s existence in the smug faces of _ everyone _ who treated his grandfather’s dreams and goals like a joke. And to then laugh in _ their _ faces and ridicule them for ever doubting his grandfather. A vicious sense of satisfaction rolled through Stiles as he imagined the faces of the Board who had last rejected them. They wouldn’t know what to do with themselves when they returned! Stiles had no doubts about that. His lips twisted up into a satisfied smirk. He really couldn’t wait to go home and just _ revel _ in being right. Maybe he’d even throw in a ‘I told you so’ dance. He had the whole trip home to think of an appropriate dance! 

With a stifled chuckle, Stiles looked up at Laura and Derek. They both were looking at him with all the curiosity an entomologist would give a newly discovered bug. But where Laura was all curiosity, Derek seemed more wary as he observed him. Stiles noted the man’s stiff shoulders and intent eyes, feeling wary in return before forcing a smile. “My turn then?”

* * *

Stiles was…something else. 

That was the best way Derek could sum the man up in a sentence. 

He was unlike any other human Derek’d met, _ especially _ a human who had come from the outside. Not that he’d met a lot of outside humans mind you. But the small number of humans who lived in the city tended to avoid Derek in general, afraid of his looks _ and _ personality. But Stiles, Stiles was talking and looking at him as though he hadn’t even noticed Derek’s looks. Which he _ had _ obviously, given the way Stiles’ eyes would keep looking at his claws or fangs in curious admiration. Even then, Stiles never referred to that particular elephant in the room as he explained how they had made their way to the city, pulling a familiar looking journal out from his jacket. 

Derek gave Laura a deadpanned, “I told you so.” when he saw it. 

He _ knew _ that that diary was going to come back and bite them in the ass one day. He’d _ told _ his mother the day Fenris had begun the journey back to Ireland that they ought to keep the diary with them. That they should keep it to prevent it from falling into the wrong hands. 

Laura rolled her eyes and punched him in the arm in reply, growling, “Shut up.” 

Stiles’ startled expression moved between them, “You know what this is?” Stiles asked, holding the leather bound journal up, “_ Whose _ journal this is?”

Derek raised one shoulder up in a half shrug. “Of course. Fenris used to carry that around with him everywhere.” From his spot, the diary looked to be in very good condition considering how old it was. Perhaps the man had placed a charm on the object in order to ensure its longevity? 

Stiles flailed so hard and so suddenly that the journal went flying out of his hands and smacked the wall above Laura’s head before falling down to hit Derek’s shoulder. “Shit! Sorry!” Stiles apologized with a wince before hurriedly asking, “What did you mean by that? Fenris used to carry it around with him everywhere? Like you’ve _ met _ him?!”

Exchanging a puzzled look with Laura, who had quickly stuck her nose into the diary, Derek answered, “Of course. He stayed with us for many years.”

“Close to 30 years,” Laura replied absently, tilting her head as she frowned at a diagram. 

Derek frowned in thought before nodding in agreement. It was more around 25 but almost 30 would work. Stiles’ mouth fell open as he stared at them before spluttering out, “How old are you guys?! The diary is _ at least _ a hundred years old!”

It was a quick thought that came and went with the suddenness of a sneeze, but Derek had a split second awareness that Stiles looked kind of attractive when he looked so taken aback. His big brown eyes opened so wide in surprise coupled with the parted pink lips were a sight to behold. 

It tempered his amusement but not enough to completely kill it. 

Thankfully, Laura was too focused on Stiles to notice the way his heart had just tripped over itself. She was resting her chin on curled fingers, grinning toothily at Stiles when she said, “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“I would _ very much _ like to know!” Stiles offered in rebuttal, gesturing wildly, “I mean! I already know that time moves differently the inside than it does on the outside but Fenris never made _ any _ mention about the lifespan of shifters. _ Any _ of them!” 

He gave the diary a baleful look, as though it were Fenris himself and Stiles wanted to get his dissatisfaction across. “He never even mentioned anyone specifically by name actually. The only name in here is his wife’s - Elizabeth. And his wife who died, Cynthia.” 

He hadn’t? Well, at least the man had held his word on that matter. Derek leaned over to glance over the book. “Huh.” He mumbled under his breath when he saw the language. That was Pictish wasn’t it? And the next page was... that wasn’t Gaelic? “Let me look at that.”

Laura glanced up before handing the book over. Derek quickly skimmed over the page. Strange that the language would keep changing from one part of the book to another. Oh, and there was some _Ogam Bethluisnion_ in here too. Interesting. He flipped through several pages and quickly realized the pattern behind Fenris’ different language uses. Derek glanced up at Stiles and wondered if he’d figured it out or not. He probably had or else he wouldn’t be sitting here in front of Derek and Laura right?

“God, don’t get me _ started! _ ” Stiles complained with a giant eye roll, “I figured out right off the bat that he had some reason to use different languages to hide the information. The _ problem _ was that most of the languages he’d used to hide the really important stuff are extinct now! Like Pictish and Ogam. I had the _ worst _ time translating that stuff. And _ all _ the road markers were in that language and I just…”

Stiles threw his hands up in exasperation before starting again, “Anyways. All the road markers and stuff used Ogam. Important stuff about pack dynamics and stuff he wrote in Pictish. Information about how you guys lived here and all’s in Thedan. And the less ‘sensitive’ information is all in Gaelic. There’s some stuff in the start that’s in French but I don’t know why he changed after a couple of days.” 

Laura stared at Stiles in frank amazement. Derek directly a sharp smirk at the journal. Stiles was remarkably clever then.

“What?” Stiles asked a tad defensively, even shirking back slightly, “What I say?”

Shaking her head, Laura answered, “Nothing. It’s just… You managed to translate all of that on your own? How’d you know… how to…” Laura pointed at the journal with her hand in a helpless way, “I wouldn’t even know where to begin with dealing with a dead language.”

Derek held the journal out for Stiles to take. Stiles accepted the book back with a smile before tapping his fingers against the leather. “It’s not that hard when you’re specialized in languages during college. I’m basically a linguist who specializes in Celtic languages. More on the Europe side than the dead languages but…”

Ignoring the modest shrug Stiles makes, Laura corrects him immediately, “I’d say it’s pretty damn amazing that you taught yourself how to read these languages. Even if you had help from other books. 

And again there was that lightening quick thought that Stiles’ was kind of attractive when he turned his pink face down and ran his hand through his hair. He wasn’t even being coy. They’d be able to tell if he was. Stiles was genuinely pleased but abashed by their praise. The warm scent that was permeating from Stiles was..._ agreeable _, for the lack of a better word. 

“To be fair,” Stiles pointed out, “I’m shit at Pictish. My friend’s the one who taught herself that because she got bored. She’s the one who’d been teaching me and helping me translate those parts.”

“Girlfriend?” Derek found himself asking curiously.

He saw Laura’s sharp gaze but adamantly ignored it. Derek willed his heart to keep its steady pace and not give him away. Not that there was anything to give away! And yet he could feel heat creeping up back of his neck. Derek ignored the look Laura was giving him and kept his eyes on Stiles’. Who threw his head back and laughed, shaking his head as his heart beat in its steady rhythm without missing a beat. 

“God no! Lydia and me are just friends. Like, don’t get me wrong! She’s attractive and everything and I did have a tiny crush on her right after we met. But we’re better off being good friends. Besides,” Stiles quipped with the grin of a man who was in on an inside joke, “I’m pretty sure she’s already married to her work.”

Laura was still staring at him like he’d grown a second head when someone knocked on the door. Facing the door she asked, “Yes?”

After a beat, James pushed the door open and stepped into the room. “Alpha Hale would like to see you both in her office.” 

“Oh shit!” Stiles jumped up to his feet, face suddenly draining of color, “Scott! I can’t believe I forgot about him! Can I go see him now? Is he alright?”

Laura stood up as well, reaching out to rest a placating hand on Stiles’ arm, “He’s alright. James will you take Stiles to Scott’s room?” She gave Stiles an apologetic smile, “I hope you won’t mind if James stays in the room with you. We’d rather be safe than sorry.”

Nodding in relieved understanding, Stiles asked, “Before you go, could you… could you tell me what happened? With Scott?” 

“Wouldn’t you rather hear it straight from him?” Laura asked, bumping her shoulder gently against Stiles’. 

Stiles smiled wanly at Laura, “Honestly I’d rather hear both sides of the story so that I know who left out what.” 

Laura chortled, loud and delighted before tucking her hand into Stiles’ elbow. “I like you, Stiles. We’re going to get along just fine.”

As they exited, Laura quickly told James to please go with Stiles to Scott’s room before tossing Derek a look that told him to stick around to else suffer horrible consequences. Derek winced the second Laura looked away. And he had hoped to beat a hasty retreat to the other side of the house, or the city, before the end of this conversation. 

But it seemed like Laura was going to drag a conversation whether he liked it or not. Derek was going to have to talk about what had just happened.

With all the enthusiasm of a man being taken to the gallows, Derek followed Laura and Stiles to the McCall’s room while his sister gave Stiles a quick summary of what had happened when he’d been out of the room. How Talia had laid the choice out before Scott and how quickly Scott had accepted. Derek found his eyes drawn to Stiles’ broad shoulders when they slumped in relief and the manner in which they stiffened with Laura told him that Scott had already been bitten by Talia.

“Isn’t that.. unusual?” Stiles asked, looking over his shoulder at Derek for askance, “I mean. I thought that giving someone the bite was a pretty big deal and that it didn’t happen this fast?”

Tilted his head in agreement, Derek answers, “It is, but Scott’s condition was critical. It sped up the usual decision process up.” He shrugged in the hopes that his answer would be enough to satisfy Stiles. 

Thankfully, they arrived in front of the McCall’s room right as he’d finished answering. Stiles gave them both a grateful look before entering the room without a knock. They heard him engage Allison in conversation before James closed the door behind them. 

“Howl if there’s any trouble.” Laura told Greg and Cindy, the pair who had been charged with guarding the McCall’s. Without waiting for either beta’s acknowledgement, Laura grabbed Derek by his shirt collar and used it to drag the taller man away.

“Laura!” Derek complained, trying to tug his shirt back without tearing it. Jeez! How come today had involved nothing but him being led around the nose by Laura? If he’d known this is how things were going to go he would have told Isaac to take a hike when he’d barged into his room! But his sister ignored him, as always. 

She dragged him downstairs into their mom’s empty study, pointed at the chair before walking over to close the open window. Laura checked to make sure no one was outside before latching the window shut.

Spinning on her heel, Laura looked at him with one brow raised sharply. Her eyes gleamed with barely restrained happiness when she asked, “_ What _was that about?”

“What was what about?” Derek feigned ignorance, hoping that his heart was steady enough for her to miss the lie.

“Don’t act dumb. You know what I’m talking about,” The sharp look Laura shot him made the rest of his excuses die on his lips, “Why did you ask him if that girl was his girlfriend or not?”

With a helpless shrug, Derek answered, “I don’t know. I was just curious.”

Derek really didn’t know what had come over him or why he’d asked Stiles that question (and he _ definitely _ wasn’t going to think about the quick twinge of pleasure that had shot through him at Stiles’ easy denial). It wasn’t like he was attracted to the man. Two thoughts about how good looking Stiles was _ hardly _ qualified as an attraction right?

Laura snorted, “_ Just _curious? Really? That’s what you’re going with? Come Derek, I know you better than that.”

“Laura.” Derek warned. Nay. _ Pleaded _. “Don’t.” 

But she spoke over him, “You like him. There’s nothing wrong in admitting that. It’s normal.”

He gave her a stern look. “I said, don’t go there.” 

There were two reasons why he didn’t want to deal with this. For starters, Derek didn’t want his family thinking he liked Stiles. He loved his pack but they were the most well-meaning but ultimately interfering set of busybodies the world had ever known. If Laura told anyone that he’d expressed the barest amount of interest in someone, they’d go overboard really fast. And then there was the fact that he wasn’t looking for any romantic entanglements. Derek hadn’t been interested in anyone for a long time, and that still hadn’t changed. 

Laura’s expression softened in sympathy. Derek bristled in anger because _ he knew _that Laura was thinking about Paige and how badly that had ended. So when Laura walked in front of him and reached out to touch his arm, and said, “This is a good thing Derek. Like I said, it’s normal. You don’t have to hide it. It’s been ages since you’ve liked anyone! Maybe you shou-” Derek roughly shook her hand off.

“If you’re about to imply that there was something wrong with me just because I haven’t been interested in someone in years then I’m going to have to ask you to stop right now,” Derek snapped back as he got to his feet.

He ignored the annoyed-hurt look in Laura’s eyes. He knew he was twisting her words around but he didn’t want her interfering, whether she meant well or otherwise. 

“And don’t take what I said as a confirmation of _ any _ feelings because I don’t feel that way towards Stiles,” Derek continued, “I was just curious about him and I asked a simple question that anyone else could have asked in the same situation. That’s all. It’s not a sign that I’m romantically interested in Stiles. And I’d like it if you would respect that and _ not _ push me.”

There was just enough of the truth in his words to get Laura to back off with a sad look. Because the truth was Derek _ was _interested in Stiles but not in a romantic way. There was something about Stiles that had captured his attention. A curious spark that made him want to study and understand Stiles. But it wasn’t a romantic interest. (At least… Derek didn’t think it was. He didn’t believe it was.) Derek was very much interested in the gleam in Stiles’ eyes, the way he was never quite still. In his expressive gestures, the different expressions he made while talking and of course, his intelligence and curiosity. 

Stiles had paid nothing but full attention to all their answers and asked nothing but quirky but intelligent questions rather than the more obvious ones most outside humans were prone to asking. His answers had been intelligent and well-thought out. Derek would tell that Stiles was being careful in the information he was sharing. It was a cautious move but again, spoke to Stiles’ intelligence and good sense. 

Derek shook his head when he saw Laura open her mouth, ready to argue her case, “I’m not going to talk about this anymore.” 

Turning his back on her, Derek opened the door and made for the back door. Perhaps the more distance he put between himself and Stiles, the quicker his interest would fade. 

“Running away won’t solve anything!” Laura shouted at his back, “You should know that better than anyone else here!”

He ignored her, because he knew she was right but he didn’t want to acknowledge that. 

* * *

Once he was in Scott and Allison’s room, Stiles had refused to leave his best friends’ side.

After he’d gotten Allison to tell him everything that had Talia had said, Stiles had dragged a chair next to Scott’s bedside and waited. He’d spent the night the small couch, going to sleep with the image of Scott’s pale face etched behind his eyelids. His sleep had been uncomfortable and restless. Stiles kept waking up after every couple of hours, eyes flying to check on Scott before falling back into a light sleep.

It was sometime after dawn that Stiles finally fell into a deep sleep and slept for four hours straight. When he’d woken up, the room was filled with muted light coming in through the windows and Scott and Allison were talking quietly with someone. Stiles had stared at the sofa back, brain click-click-clicking as it tried to process what they were listening. It took him a solid minute to finally process the fact that _ Scott _ was _ talking _. 

Shooting up, Stiles tumbled off the sofa and onto the floor, elbow clipping the table nearby. The sudden ruckus caused the conversation to halt, Allison letting out an alarmed, “Stiles! You okay?” 

The blankets he’d slept under threatened to smother him. Stiles kicked and tugged the stubborn material off before pushing himself up to his feet. Allison was on her feet, standing next to an amused looking Isaac. And there was Scott, lying propped up in a large bed, a thick quilt covering his lower body, smiling weakly as Allison and Isaac chuckled. 

“That’s one way to wake up,” Scott said and Stiles’ heart _ swelled _ with relief.

Stepping over the blankets, Stiles crossed the short distance over to sit down on the bed next to his best friend, “When’d you wake up? How do you feel? Show me where you got bit.” 

“About two hours ago and I feel great, “Scott answered as he obligingly pulled his shirt up to reveal his torso to Stiles. Who stared in disbelief at Scott’s clean ribs. 

Stiles turned to give Allison a bewildered look, “Didn’t you say there was a bite mark? Right against his side?” 

“There was. I threw the bandage off after Scott woke up. You can see the blood for yourself,” Allison pointed towards the waste basket in the corner before coming to stand behind him, “The bite was… right around here.” Her index finger made a circle on the spot right under Scott’s ribs. 

Stiles pressed cautious fingertips against the smooth skin in wonder, “How the hell is this possible? It didn’t even leave a _ scar _!” 

Turning towards Isaac, who had been standing quietly by the window, Stiles asked, “Is this a good sign? I mean, this is good, right? That he’s okay?”

Isaac nodded. “It means that the bite’s taken and he’s starting to heal. He should be back on his feet within a day.”

Stiles let out a loud relieved sigh and finally took a good, long, hard look at Scott. Scott looked better than he had in days. Sure his t-shirt looked a bit loose on him but there was color in his cheeks, a sparkle in his eyes, and the gaunt look around his eyes was starting to fade away. He looked well on his way to recovery. 

“How’s it feel to be a bonafida werewolf now?” Stiles asked with the biggest grin he could manage. 

With a laugh, Scott answered, “Great! Never felt better! I think I’m finally starting to feel my toes again,” When Allison and Stiles laughed, Scott insisted, “No! Seriously! I can feel my toes tingling. They’re feeling kind of like I’d kept them in ice too long and are starting too, you know, thaw out.”

Allison paused before quickly pulled the sheets down, staring in amazement at Scott’s legs. The dark bruising and swelling on both limbs had gone down substantially. It didn’t look like Scott had broken his legs at multiple points at all! It just looked like he’d gotten some bad bruises.

“Holy...” Stiles whispered under his breath when he noticed that the bruises were _ shrinking _ right before their eyes. Shuffling closer to the end of the bed, Stiles held his finger over a particularly bad bruise and watched the dark purple color recede into a sickly yellow within minutes. “When you said advanced healing you weren’t kidding!” 

Isaac was smirking at them, like he found their wonder amusing. “Like I said, he should be back on his feet within a day, tomorrow night at the latest. Just to be on the safe side we’ll wait till the day after and then start his training.”

While Allison hurriedly took off Scott’s splints, wincing when one of the pieces snagged against Scott’s boxers, Stiles looked up at the curly haired shifter, “What kind of training? Like, how to fight and stuff?”

“That’s part of it,” Isaac began to tick the points off, stepping up to help Allison take care of the dirty splints, “The first thing he’s going to have to learn how is control. Control over himself and his shift. To do that, Scott is going to have to find his anchor and use it to keep himself grounded. It’s important that he gains control as soon as possible. He’s got time till the next full moon to learn this. The sooner he finds his anchor, the easier the rest of the process will be for him.”

“How exactly do you do that?” Allison asked, “How do you pick an anchor? What exactly _ is _ an anchor anyways?”

“And how long does he have to learn all of… whatever he’s got to learn?” Stiles added.

Isaac wrapped the dirty bandages around the wooden splints as he answered, “About 3 weeks, give or take. And I guess the easiest way to I could explain what an anchor is that…it’s something that helps you stay in control.”

“You mean like… a token?” Scott asked cautiously, “What _ is _something?”

“It can be anything. A person or an emotion or a concept like family. The point is that when you focus on that thing, it’ll help you stay calm and grounded enough to control your shift. It’ll stop you from letting the shift gain control and force you into changing into your beta form.”

“Beta form…” Scott murmured before asking again, “I don’t remember Alpha Hale saying anything like that. What is it exactly?” 

“Have you met Derek yet?” Isaac asked. Scott and Allison shook their heads while Stiles nodded. “I guess I’ll just show you. It’ll be easier.”

Stiles cut in here, hand raised in the air, “Is the beta form where you … change your features? Grow the claws, fangs, mutton chops, and have a disturbing lack of eyebrows?”

While Allison gave him a puzzled look and asked, “How do you know that?” Scott’s hand flew up to cover his eyebrows in concern. “I don’t wanna lose my eyebrows!”

“I guessed,” Stiles shrugged, “I met Derek and he was rocking that look. The human face wasn’t meant to _ not _have eyebrows.”

Isaac was laughing at Scott’s alarmed expression, reassuring him through his chuckles, “You won’t _ lose _ them. They just... temporarily disappear. See for yourself.” 

He rolled his head around, stretching the muscles before his features began to shift. Stiles held his breath at the sight of Isaac’s fangs lengthening, brow furrowing as his eyes shifted color to a deep amber color and flashed his claws at the trio. 

“Beta form.” Isaac explained once fully shifted, holding both clawed hands up for them to see.

He held his hands out towards the trio, an open invitation to touch and see. Allison was the only one who took him up on the offer, holding Isaac’s hand up to her face with a deeply intrigued expression. She gently touched the claw tips before muttering, “Where do they even come from?”

Scott however was staring at Isaac’s face, jaw falling open, “Whoa. That’s gonna take some getting used too. And no offense, but you look _ really _ weird with the…” Scott gently rubbed the back of his fingers against his cheek to indicate Isaac’s sideburns. 

Laughing in agreement, Stiles leaned over, “If you think Isaac’s looking weird, you should see Derek. Regular resting bitch face hasn’t got anything on how mad he always looks without his eyebrows and the fangs. And he’s got these mutton chops like you wouldn’t _ believe _. Isaac’s aren’t even half as bad.” 

“Dude, where do you think the eyebrows go?”

“They… slide down and become the sideburns?” Stiles offered with a helpless shrug, “You got me.”

That caused Isaac to laugh long and hard enough that he doubled over. In fact, he was still laughing when Laura popped her head into the room.

“What’s so funny?” She asked, glancing over the room’s occupants.

Isaac’s features shifted to human as he answered, still laughing, “Stiles theory about what happens to our eyebrows when we shift.”

With an interested “Oh?” Laura stepped into the room. She walking across the room and sat down on the sofa before asking, “What’s your theory Stiles?”

Isaac moved towards her, sitting down on the sofa arm as Stiles sheepishly repeated his words. Including the part about Derek when Isaac insisted he repeat that part too. He’d hesitated a moment, worried that Laura might get offended on Derek’s behalf. 

He was incredibly relieved when Laura laughed heartily when Stiles was done, “I’m sorry! It’s just that if you knew what Derek looks like unshifted, you’d find your theory really funny as well.”

“He has good eyebrows?” Stiles asked inquisitively, “Or does he still have resting bitch face when he looks human?”

He wouldn’t be surprised if both things were true. Derek seemed like the type who’d use his eyebrows a lot. There were several times in their conversation yesterday where his brow would rise, which served to highlight the lack of the man’s eyebrows actually. It was vaguely disconcerting actually, the whole lack of eyebrows. Borderline freaky if you asked Stiles.

But the man himself was... interesting? Stiles wanted to sit down with Derek and have a more thorough conversation with him, if only to get rid of whatever reservations the man had about him. A conversation that went beyond ‘business’ where they both were sizing each other up and trying to judge what the other knew. He just… wanted to get to know the guy, that’s all.

“I’m sorry for not asking this right as I came in, but how are you doing Scott? Did you rest well?” She asked, smiling at Scott.

Smiling back, Scott happily told her about how the bruises on his legs were starting to recede and that he was starting to get the sensation back in his legs. 

Mid-way Scott’s answer, someone knocked on the door. Isaac jumped up to answer it while Laura kept listening to Scott. Stiles watched Isaac open the door and help a broad hipped blonde girl in. She wore a simple knee length frock with a white apron tied around her waist. In her hands was a large tray that was laden down with food. The smell of freshly toasted bread and jam was beginning to fill the room, causing Stiles to salivate. Stiles let out a tiny, happy moan. He couldn’t wait to sink his teeth into _ that _. 

“Where should I put this down, miss?” The girl asked Laura.

“By the bed will be fine. Isaac, could you get that table and put it right next to the bed? Thank you,” As the girl walked up to the bed, Laura gave Scott and Allison a small smile, “I asked them to bring you breakfast in bed. Figured you’d appreciate the privacy. You were saying?” 

Isaac moved in front of Alice, dragging a small table out of its corner and up against the bed. Right by Scott’s side and right in front of Stiles. Alice put the tray down with the smallest rattle before quietly heading out. Stiles was more than happy to ignore the conversation going on in favor of checking out the tray. It was a veritable feast! Simple stuff but it all looked _ delicious _. There were strips of crunchy bacon, a small mountain of scrambled eggs, pancakes with a jug of thick maple syrup sitting next to them, steaming sausages, sweet smelling toasted bread, a large knob of butter, and a big bowl of fruit salad. There was even a big jug of juice sitting in the corner of the tray but Stiles couldn’t hazard a guess what flavor it was. It looked thick, with a touch of foam on top. Fresh juice probably. And going by its soft pink shade, it had to be strawberry or some other berry mixed with something else. No would mind if he took a sip right? 

He snuck a glance at the others to make sure that no one was paying any attention to him. Laura was telling Scott something about her mom wanting to meet with him as soon as he felt better. Scott was saying that he’d love to meet her after breakfast. Allison and Isaac were talking about anchors again by the sound of it. Excellent. Stiles picked up one of the empty glasses and poured some of the liquid. Yep, it was thicker in consistency than regular juice. But not pulpy so, Stiles would guess it didn’t had fresh orange juice in it at least. After a rough minute of mentally psyching himself up, Stiles brought the glass up to his lips. Two gulps and he was done. Smacking his lips, Stiles tried to identify the flavors. He could recognize banana and strawberry right off the bat, score one to him for that guess - but the others…

He poured himself some more of the juice, taking smaller sips this time as he tried to pinpoint what else had gone into the mix. But he couldn’t figure out what the last flavor was. _ ‘Still, _ ’ Stiles thought as he emptied his glass, _ ‘it’s pretty damn good. _’ Stiles was considering pouring himself a full glass when he heard Laura call his name.

“Stiles?” 

Looking up, empty glass in one hand and jug in the other, Stiles gave the woman a questioning look. He attempted to look as innocent as possible when he said, “Yes?”

While Allison and Scott shook their heads fondly, Laura waited for Stiles to lower the glass before asking, “Did you miss what I said?”

Had he missed out on an important part of the conversation while trying to figure out the juice flavor? Oops. “Yeah, sorry about that. It’s just… the juice was...” He held his glass up before asking, “What had you said again?”

“Deaton wanted... You remember Deaton, yes?” Stiles nodded immediately. It was hard to forget that man who was responsible for saving Scott’s life, “He wanted to talk to you today, after breakfast. Would that be alright?” 

That was a little weird. Why would the healer want to talk to him? Stiles shrugged, figuring what harm could it do. In fact, the more people he met, the happier he’d be. Multiple sources of information were better than singular ones.

Laura clapped her hands with delight. “Perfect! I’ll send Derek round in an hour or so. He’ll escort you to Deaton. Would that be alright?” 

The thought that he would have a chance to spend some time along with Derek made Stiles’ heart speed up in eager anticipation. Nodding eagerly, Stiles answered, “Yeah! That’d be great.” 

Oh, although. Stiles glanced down at himself and grimaced at how dirty his clothes were. He’d have to shower and clean up first. But he didn’t have any clean clothes on him. Dammit. What were the odds he had forgotten about some shirt and it was balled up in the bottom of his bag, not smelling as bad as the rest of his stuff? ‘_ Slim to none _ ,’ his brain informed him sadly. Stiles wondered what was the laundry situation in the city. He should take advantage of the fact that they were in the city and take as many hot showers as possible _ and _ get his clothed washed. Sighing, Stiles hoped that Derek wouldn’t be too offended by ‘Eau de Explorer On The Road For Two Months’. 

“Uhhh, could you make it like, an hour and a half after? I’d like to clean up before he comes here.”

“I’ll tell him that, “Laura nodded and stood up. “I’ll leave you to your breakfast then.”

She was halfway across the room when she stopped, “Oh! I’m not sure if anyone told you this or not but the rest of your camp has settled in. We’ve got them stayed in a few cottages on the edge of the city. A few of your friends insisted pretty hard that they wanted to come over and see how you were doing. A pretty red head in particular. She was ready to come marching over in the dead night to make sure you were being given the proper care.”

“Lydia.” Allison grinned, “That sounds like her. How’d you convince her not to do that?”

“I think one of your other friends helped calm her down,” Laura held a hand a few inches above her head, “About this tall, has dimples?” 

“Must be Danny,” Scott nodded before turning to Allison, “We should go stay with the others when I’m back on my feet. That is,” He turned back to Laura to give her a concerned look, “if that’s okay?” 

“I could go get them, if you want?” Isaac offered, looking to Laura for permission, “Bring them back here.”

Allison and Scott’s faces lit up with matching smiles, “Would you? That’s be great! We’d really appreciate that Isaac.” 

Scott’s words made Isaac duck his head with a bashful grin before he said, “I’ll go now. It’ll take me a while before I get back. Enough time for you all to eat.”

“We’ll leave you to it then,” Laura said, tapping her wrist as she met Stiles’ gaze, “Hour and a half. I’ll tell Derek to come here to pick you up.” 

  
Stiles nodded. 

As he watched Laura walk out, Stiles wondered what kind of living situation the rest of the camp had been set up in. Also, on the same subject, how long were Scott and Allison going to stay here in the Hale house? Would they allow Scott to stay with the rest of them at the cottage? If they insisted that they had to keep Scott to keep an eye on him, they’d obviously let Allison stay because she was his wife. But they’d definitely insist that Stiles go and stay with the others. 

Stiles scratched his head with an annoyed sigh. He’d loathe to leave but so long as he got reassurance that Scott would be okay and that Stiles could visit… well. Stiles supposed he could live with that situation.

He’d have to ask Laura or someone else what that situation was going to be like. Stiles put a pin in it when Allison broke the silence, asking, “So... Who’s this Derek guy?”

“And why did Laura look so happy when she said he’d take you to the healer?” Scott finished with a perplexed look, “Deaton’s the same guy who helped me, right?”

Stiles told the squirmy happy feeling in his gut to take a hike before answering, “He’s Laura’s brother. I met him yesterday when I found the place. And again yesterday after Allison and I showed up. Him and Laura came into my room and we talked to me for a while before I came to see you.”

Jeez. Had it only been _ yesterday _ that he’d accidentally found the city? It already felt so much longer than that.

“Is that all that happened?” Scott teasingly asked, “The way she looked at you makes me think there’s more to the story. And I know that look you’ve got on your face. You’re definitely interested in the guy. Tell us the whole story.” Allison smirked in agreement while Stiles glared at his best friends. 

“Derek is Laura’s younger brother and I met him yesterday along with several other people after accidentally finding the city. And yesterday, after we’d arrived here, they came to talk to me and we spent some time talking about Fenris and the diary. How’s that for a complete story?” Stiles snarked and grabbed a plate, “Allison, what do you want to eat?”

She pointed at the eggs and bacon. Stiles spooned a big helping of scrambled eggs onto the place before slipping some bacon next to it. He held up a slice of toast, eyebrows raised in a silent question at her. Allison nodded and walked around to take her plate. 

“Food isn’t going to distract us from this,” she said with a wicked grin, “just FYI.”

Next, he put together a plate for Scott, grumbling, “I’m not trying to distract you. I just don’t want the food to get cold.” He put in two sausages, some pancakes and a few strips of bacon before standing up. Walking around the table, Stiles handed the plate over to Scott with a, “There isn’t much to tell after that.” 

“Other than the fact that Stiles might be a little sweet on this guy,” Scott began, (“Am not!”, Stiles denied hotly and immediately) “Am I the only one who feels...” He made a face at their surroundings and the food before finishing, “a little weirded out? I mean. This isn’t what I thought this place would be like. It’s a lot more like some… rustic retreat than a hidden city.”

“This isn’t what I was expecting, that’s for sure.” Allison admitted, accepting the juice-filled glass Stiles was holding out for her. She’d sit down on the bed across from Stiles but with one knee up so that she was half-facing Scott as well. 

She held a slice of toast in one hand and was dipping a knife into the jam pot with the other, “With all the stories we’ve heard, I was expecting-”

“Something a lot more backward,” Stiles finished, pouring a generous helping of syrup over his pancakes, “Or monsters living without any rules. But then we got here and these people are just like us.” 

He cut a large bite out his stack, and stuffed it into his mouth. Stiles immediately moaned. Pancakes had never tasted better in his entire _ life _ , “With _ awesome _ cooking skilled.”

Scott snorted mid-bite, swallowed and spoke, “And stiffer English but yeah. They’re really nice people.”

Giving his best friend a look of deep, fond amusement, Stiles joked, “You thought _ Jackson _ was nice people. I don’t think your opinion counts here.”

As he poured himself a glass of juice, Scott argued back, “I never thought that! Jackson was a grade-A ass!” 

“But you were still nice to him.” Stiles pointed a finger at him as he held his glass.

Scott threw a hand up in disbelief before answering, “Because it was the _ nice _ thing to do! We were co-workers! I couldn’t just-“

“Boys,” Allison cut in, bringing them back on track almost immediately, “But I have to agree with Scott. They all do seem like nice people. But I keep wondering if…”

“If what?” Stiles asked, lowering his glass down on the table.

Allison snuck a glance at the door before lowering her voice, “You don’t think that they’re trying to… you know. Get us to let our guard down?”

That was very much possible, Stiles thought moodily to himself as he tapped his fork against the plate. But that question only led to another.

“But how would that help them?” Scott asked, stabbing a sausage with his fork. Stiles pointed at Scott and nodded because that. Exactly. “I mean. We don’t really have anything that they could want. So…”

Allison immediately pointed at Stiles, who quickly wondered why _ he _ was important, “The diary. Maybe they want it back.”

Oh. That. Stiles made a face as he spooned some of the eggs into his plate. There was still steam rising off the eggs. And they looked soft and fluffy, just the way he liked them. “It’s not _ that _ important,” he answered as he grabbed a toast slice, “If they’d wanted then they could have taken it away from me yesterday but Laura and Derek didn’t seem _ that _ interested in it. They were more interested in getting information about the outside world.”

The trio fell into silence at this reveal, slowly working their way through their food. “Maybe they really are just nice people?” Scott offered hesitantly. 

“I guess they are,” Allison said softly with a smile.

If that were true they had really lucked out. In many, may ways. These people, alpha Hale in particular, had single-handedly saved all their lives. If she wanted, she could have ignored Stiles’ request. She could ordered Stiles to be killed for finding out their secret. Hell, she could have even sent an army of shifters to kill the rest of their camp to stop them from finding the city. But instead she’d helped them. She’d shown mercy and kindness to a total stranger just because. 

_ ‘Maybe that’s the thing that had been bothering me about Kate’s story. _’ 

Her tale had laid the smallest seed of doubt in Stiles’ mind that maybe Fenris had lied about the shifters. Or that he’d hidden the truth about them. But what they’d just gone through…maybe it was Kate who had been wrong. Maybe it was Kate who had spun a liar’s tale and expected them to just accept that all shifters were evil and bad and without mercy. Which raised the obvious question: what had Kate wanted to achieve by telling them such a biased story? (And did she _ really _ believe it to be true?). 

Their conversation began to drift after that point. They took their time eating, managing to clean _ all _ the food on the tray before they each nursed a glass of juice. Stomach full and sitting next to two of his best friends, Stiles felt sleepy and warm. He listened to Scott and Allison talk about their plans for the rest of the day. Once Isaac was back, Scott was going to see if he could get up on his feet. And he’d Isaac to start teaching him everything he needed to know to adjust to his new life.

“We need to ask him when we can move to the cottages with the others,” Allison pointed out, “I don’t want to impose on the Hales any longer than we have too.”

“Can we impose on them long enough for them to do our laundry thought? Because I’ll love them _ forever _ if they could clean my stuff.” 

Scott snorted at the comment and asked Allison, “I like that plan. Hey, how do you think they wash their clothes? I mean, they don’t have electricity so, it’s got to be that old… what do you call it? That board thing they washed clothes on, right?

“Has to be,” Stiles glanced at the lamps attached to the wall, “What do you think they are, oil or magic?”

“Magic city. It’d be a shame if they were oil,” Allison answered, getting up on her feet to check. She took a few delicate sniffs before reaching up to check, “I don’t smell any kerosene. And I don’t see any knobs or anything…”

Stiles jumped on his feet to investigate as well, “Huh. Yeah. I wonder how you turn them on.” He made a mental note to ask the next person he met. Oh speaking of which. “I’m gonna go take a shower. Enjoy all that hot water and get ready for Derek.”

“Oooh,” Scott teased him, “Get _ ready _ for Derek.”

“If you weren’t hurt I’d hit you. You know it’s nothing like that. But uuhh… You got a clean shirt I can borrow?”

* * *

Derek had quietly categorized Stiles as a chatterbox. And then he’d realized on their walk over to Deaton’s office that _ that _ was a major understatement. Stiles talked enthusiastically the _ whole _ way over to the healer’s office. The entire way! His head kept turning this way, trying to take in as many of the sights a possible, questions dropping from his lips like rain from the stormy sky. Every few steps he’d stop and stare at something. A magical person passing by, a window display, the centaur-drawn cart that ambled by. It was amusing and irritating in equal quantities. Amusing because seeing Stiles’ naked awe and curiosity was delightful. Irritating because they were going to be so damned late because Stiles kept stopping every few feet.

Now, if Stiles’ first quality was being talkative? Then his second quality was being curious. Derek had gotten a glimpse of Stiles’ curious side yesterday and thought he’d gained a good understanding of how curious Stiles really was. But this trip was proven that yesterday had been the tip of the iceberg. Stiles’ questions ranged from ‘Where do you raise the cattle and all?’ to ‘How much business does that bookshop ge-_ holy shit _! That’s not an actual book worm is it?’ to ‘Where do you stock grains and stuff?’ to ‘How does the blacksmith get enough metal to make horseshoes?’ to ‘What do you guys do for fun around here?’

And Stiles also kept wandering off. Or well. He’d suddenly stop in the middle of the road without Derek noticing. About ten steps later, Derek would realize that Stiles wasn’t next to im and turn back to find him gawking at something. Derek was tempted, thrice, to put a leash and collar on the man to keep him on course. 

“Stiles!” Derek called out, voice colored with exasperation as he grabbed the man by the arm, “He’ll still be here when we get back! The whole city will still be here by the time we’re done.”

Whining, Stiles glanced back at the satyr dancing around the fountain. He was dancing to the jaunty tune the nearby faun was playing on his pan flute. Together, the pair were entertaining the small group of children and their parents who stood in a loose semi-circle around them. 

“You don’t know that.” Stiles said, turning his longing eyes back towards the pair. Or maybe it was Howell and Galen who had caught Stiles’ attention. The pair _ were _the kind of couple to catch everyone’s eyes. That’s what happened when you were over seven feet tall, had gray skin with shimmering tattoos on their arms, and horns curling out of their foreheads. But they also had a minor tendency towards public displays of affection so…

Shaking his head, Derek tugged Stiles away from the fountain and in the direction of Deaton’s office, “Of course I do! Those two are at the fountain _ every day _. I promise that as soon as we’re done with Deaton, we’ll come back here, okay? I’ll take you wherever you want to on the way if you stop pausing every few minutes.” 

Derek regretted making the offer the second it was out of his mouth. Because then it was Stiles dragging him down the streets, asking Derek for direction in one breath and telling him to hurry up in the other. _ ‘And here I’d thought this wouldn’t be fun…’ _ he thought wryly to himself. 

When Laura had waltzed into the dining room and announced that Derek was going to escort Stiles to Deaton’s, Derek had been ready to argue back. He had his own errands to run and couldn’t spare the time. Why couldn’t Boyd do it? 

Not that Laura listened to him because she’d waltzed right out of the room, saying, “Mom agrees with me and expects you to give her a full report of your visit. Don’t forget now!” Next thing Derek knew, she was heading into the kitchen, loudly asking Constance the cook if they still had some of yesterday’s muffins left over. 

Dismayed, Derek had turned to give the other people at the table pleading looks but _ everyone _ seemed too interested in their breakfast. Boyd flat out refused to meet his eye and Erica stood up, half-filled plate in hand as she declared, “I can hear the cows calling me.” and followed in Laura’s footsteps. 

So resigned to his fate, Derek had finished his meal, gone upstairs to get ready to pick Stiles up. He’d had a moment in the shower where, while jerking himself off, he’d had a flash of pale skin dotted with beauty marks, slim hands, and puckered pink lips. Derek had gotten dressed feeling more than a little flustered because what was _ that _? Why had his brain… 

He’d tried to push those thoughts of this mind. The journey from his room to the guest rooms on the other side of the house hadn’t been just long enough for him to push his fantasy out of his head. Only for it to come crashing back when a bare chested Stiles opened the door.

“Oh shit! I’m so sorry! I just need to put a shirt and some more stuff on and we can go,” Stiles had hopped back, leaving room for Derek to come in before heading to the pile of clothes littering the bed.

Derek stared at the large beauty mark on Stiles’ shoulder, watched the play of his muscles as he pulled a red t-shirt out of the pile and slipped it on. He felt a twinge of regret at that and Derek immediately shook himself. He couldn’t let his guard down so easily just because he thought Stiles was attractive! Derek needed to try and be more careful.

Which was going to be easier said that done, Derek realized in dismay when Stiles pulled a hat over his head and chirped, “Let’s get going then!” 

Sure enough, any resolve he’d held to stay aloof and keep his distance went out the window when he was _ in _ Stiles’ company. It was just so incredibly difficult to think that someone who seemed so genuinely interested and admiring of the city and all its inhabitants might have some kind of insidious plan in motion. It kind of reminded him of Fenris but he'd been a lot more restrained.

Besides which, the way Stiles kept being fascinated with the smallest of things every few minutes? Derek barely had any time to wonder about Stiles’ deeper motivations. If anything, his sole desire seemed to be that he wanted to know thing about the city. All the smallest and most irrelevant details would be worth their weight in gold to Stiles. So far, his only real flaws seemed to be that he was more easily distracted than a child and asked just about as many questions as well. He seemed to be… a very genuine individual. And he’d turned the ember of Derek’s curiosity into a full out blazing fire. 

Derek wanted to tell Stiles everything he wanted to know (within reason, obviously!) and wanted to ask just as many questions back in return. Which meant, Derek realized with a sad and annoyed sigh, that he never had a chance to keep his guard up in the first place. He’d just been fooling himself. Damn it all. Laura had been right after all. He _ was _ interested in Stiles beyond just mere curiosity. Derek really hated how well and how easily Laura was able to read him.

“Everything alright?” Stiles asked with a concerned look, “That was one hell of a heavy sigh.”

Shaking his head, Derek pulled Stiles down the street, “Do you have siblings?”

“Uh, no. Only child. Why do you ask?”

Deaton’s shop was on the other side of the road. The green and white sign swung when a passing fae tapped its hand against it. There were a few puppies frolicking about in the display window, ignoring the way they were being stared at by a stern-faced teen shifter. 

As he crossed the road, Derek answered, “Because older sister’s are a pain in the ass and you’re lucky you don’t have one.”

There was a small pause before Stiles replied, “I’m not gonna tell Laura you said that.” 

And then crashed into his shoulder when Derek abruptly paused at the edge of the sidewalk, letting the family of naga pass by. The eldest of the group bowed her head at Derek in thanks before gesturing for her brood to hurry up. 

Derek tried to repressed a shiver at the feel of Stiles’ chest pressed against his back but he was pulling away all too soon. “Ow!” Stiles whined, pulling away his hands from where they’d been curling into Derek’s jacket, “Why did we stop?”

He pointed at the group of naga slithering down the street, arms loaded with packages and parcels. Stiles followed his finger and let his jaw drop at the sight, “Are they… Is that a family of…?”

“Naga. Yes. I was just letting them pass first.”

“Oh. Well… Just. Give me some warning next time. For my poor noses’ sake.” Stiles wriggled his nose at Derek, going cross eyed as he squinted at it before asking, “I’m not bleeding am I?”

It looked like the same, slightly upturned and kind of cute nose as before, “You’re fine. And we’re here.” 

Derek took the final few steps, pushing the door open for Stiles. But Stiles stood underneath the rabbit shaped business sign hanging overhead, and gawked at the text there, “Deaton is a vet? You let a vet treat my best friend? Oh my God, you guys have a vet who’s a healer! Tell me _ someone’s _ seen the humor in this.”

Only a million times, Derek thought tiredly to himself as he gestured for Stiles to come in already. There were a few jokes that he’d gotten _ extremely _ tired of over the years and _ that one _ about Deaton was at the top of his list. If he had to hear one more damned dog joke, he was going to-

“Derek!” Erica beamed at the werewolf from behind the counter. “Deaton was getting worried about you!” She glanced over at Stiles and gave him a quick nod and a smile, “Stiles.”

Pointing his finger at Stiles, who was already busily examining the pets for sale posters pinned to the cork board behind them, Derek said to Erica, “Blame him. He couldn’t stop wanting to stop and stare at everything.” 

He ignored Stiles’ angry squawk and asked, “Is Deaton in the back?”

Erica nodded, raising the divider, “He’s waiting for you in his office.”

With a nod of his own, Derek sharply gestured for Stiles to walk ahead of him. That way Derek could make sure that Stiles wasn’t sticking his nose someplace it wasn’t supposed to be, “It’s like you don’t trust me or something.” Stiles complained good-naturedly, grinning back at Derek, “Through the door?”

“Or something…” He drawled, “and yes.”

Stiles opened the door and walked through, pulling his cap off with one hand. He walked to the middle of the room and looked around. And Derek watched Stiles. He watched Stiles take in the examination table, the charts on the wall, and the empty animal cages before walking over to the medicine rack that took up a whole wall to study the medicines stacked there.

Derek saw the surprise that flashed over Stiles’ face a few times before he turned around to ask, “Didn’t Erica say that Deaton was here?” Stiles asked.

Derek gestured towards second door, behind which he could hear footsteps coming closer. “Over there.” Derek said, hurriedly putting a hand on Stiles’ shoulder to step him from getting any closer to the door.

Which was a timely move because just as Stiles let out a confused noise, Deaton was throwing the door open with an enigmatic smile, “Oh good! You’re here! Please come in.” 

Stiles gave him a startled look, like he was surprised Derek had stopped him from getting a face full of wood, before cautiously following Deaton into his office. Derek was a step behind, walking into the room after Stiles. He closed the door while nodding his greeting to the Emissary.

Deaton was already seated behind his desk, smiling at the pair as they looked at him, “Stiles. Derek. Thank you for coming on such short notice.”

Eyes and ears on Stiles, Derek watched the human’s casual shrug. “No trouble. Any excuse to get out of the house and go explore the city.” 

He turned around to shoot Derek a meaningful look. To which Derek rolled his eyes and huffed. As _ if _ he could forget his promise _ that _ quickly.

Stiles’ grinned in delight before turning back towards Deaton, “Laura said that you wanted to talk to me? How can I help you for?” 

Deaton gestured for Stiles to take a seat, who immediately sank into the nearest creaky chair with a kind of enthusiasm the chair did not appreciate. For his part, Derek opted to stand by the door with his arms crossed over his chest. It was the best spot from where he could observe Stiles. 

“I was hoping to speak to you about the manner in which you arrival to the city.”

The chair groaned in more protest when Stiles tried to tip the chair back on two legs and failed. He pulled a face before letting the chair back drop to the floor with a small clunk. “Sure, what did you want to know?”

Derek focused his entire attention on Stiles – on the beating of his heart, his breathing, his body language. But all accounts, Stiles appeared to be genuinely relaxed and at ease. It’s the same scent that he’d been sporting from the start. Just excitement and at ease. Come to think of it. There wasn’t a single point where Stiles had been nervous or scared. Not even during their first meeting. Derek frowned deeply and wondered what an odd human Stiles was. 

“Tell me how you managed to get into the city. In as much detail as possible.”

Stiles snorted lightly, “There isn’t a lot of detail involved. And I’ve already told Derek and Laura everything about our journey here so I’m not sure what kind of information you’re looking for. If I knew that, maybe I could help?”

“Don’t you worry about that,” Deaton smiled politely, sitting down on the table corner, “I’d just like to hear the story from you. If you don’t mind.” 

Derek wondered when his mom had told Deaton the story. It had to have been at some point yesterday, after they’d walked Scott to the McCall’s room. They’re repeated Stiles’ story to their mother in as much detail as they could before being dismissed. And because Derek couldn’t remember his mother leaving the home yesterday, or Deaton visiting, his mother had probably written Deaton a letter explaining what had happened. And Deaton had probably wanted to hear the story for himself rather than a third-hand account of it. 

Stiles shrugged, “Sure.”

In the next forty minutes, Stiles had told his story in extreme detail, interrupted frequently by Deaton who asked question after question of his own. Of all the people who Derek thought might match Stiles question for question, he’d never thought Deaton might be a contender. But here they were. Deaton asked Stiles a few questions about the earlier part of their journey but once he realized it wasn’t relevant to what had happened, went back to questioning Stiles about what had happened. They were finally at the end of the story now. 

“I saw this flash of light and I wasn’t sure what I saw because the cave went dark again. But then someone else walked through the vines and made the light shine in my eyes and I thought, ‘Something’s covering the entrance!’” Stiles explained, fingers rolling two small quartz stones around in his hand, “So I just ran forward thinking that I couldn’t lose sight of them or else Scott might die and my hands hit the vines. And I pushed through.”

Leaning back on his chair, Deaton said, “Interesting. You didn’t feel any compulsion to turn around and leave?” 

Stiles shook his head. 

“And you saw the vines clearly? They weren’t blurred?” 

“Well it was pretty dark so I didn’t really see them _ clearly. _But they weren’t blurry or anything. I could make them out.” 

“Fascinating… And you just pushed through? With no resistance? You didn’t feel them pushing you back?”

Stiles frowned, stones clinking against each other as he thought, “No, actually. Don’t tell me those vines were sentient. Are they supposed to push people out? ‘cuz I kind of had to like, push my way through them for a while.” 

“Just to be clear, you pushed through the vines and felt their weight yes?” After Stiles nodded, Deaton asked, “At any point did you feel that you’d hit a ward or barrier of any kind?” 

Stiles passed the stones to his other hand, biting his lip before shaking his head, “Nope. I just had to push my way through the plants. They were really heavy and I kind of had to shove my way through ‘em. I didn’t feel any barrier, ward, or anything like that. Actually, you really should have some kind of barrier placed on the entrance to make sure none of the riff-raff comes in accidentally. Sure the road getting here is pretty damn secretive and dangerous and it’s good that you’ve only got one way in and it’s really far away from the city but it’s like leaving your front door open. Doesn’t matter how far away from civilization you are, you never know who might come knocking. It’s a seriously bad idea to depend on just those vines to hide that entrance.”

So he hadn’t even noticed that the barrier was there? 

Derek shot the healer a puzzled look because how was that even possible? But Deaton was busy staring at Stiles thoughtfully. So Derek stared at Stiles as well because what Stiles had described should have been impossible. 

“What?” Stiles asked, blinking at Deaton before glancing over at Derek and back, hands pausing mid-stone roll before asking, “Was it something I said?”

“Wait here for a minute. There’s something I need to test.” Deaton asked, walking around the table. Without waiting for Stiles’ answer, Deaton had left the room, closing the door behind him. Stiles turned around to catch the door closing and immediately gave Derek a surprised look.

“There was a barrier there?” He asked loudly, confused eyes landing on Derek. “You already _ have _a barrier put up at the cave entrance?” 

Derek nodded, “You honestly didn’t stop to think about how odd it was that you were able to come out of the cave so easily?” 

The human shook his head, frantic and slightly panicked, “No! I just... I wasn’t thinking about that at all!”

“What _ were _you thinking about?” Deaton asked suddenly, coming back into the room with a jar of black dust. While Stiles jumped at the sudden question, Derek eyed the jar and wondered what the vet was planning. “Or what were you feeling at the time? That might help us figure out why you were able to come in so easily.”

Stiles’ gaze ticked back to his before he hesitantly answered, “I was just thinking that these people might lead me to a village where I could find someone who’d be able to help Scott. That’s _ all _ I was thinking about. That I had to follow them and find help. I just... I felt desperate.” 

Derek couldn’t detect a lie in his words. He looked a bit confused by the line of questioning and was eyeing the jar with some trepidation but other than that? Stiles wasn’t smelling of fear or any other negative emotion. When Deaton gaze at him questioningly, Derek minutely shook his head to get his observation across - not lying. 

And Stiles caught their little wordless conversation as well, frowning at the both of them before asking, “What?”

Deaton put the jar down on the table in front of Stiles, the label pointing away from Stiles, “Do you know what this is?”

While Stiles leaned in to examine it, Derek leaned back in his seat. He already knew what it was - mountain ash. 

“It looks like... dust?” Stiles answered carefully, looking between Derek and Deaton to check if he had given the right answer. “Or soot? Ashes maybe?”

“Close,” the emissary smiled slightly as he popped the top off before pouring some of the dark powder into his hand. He held his palm out towards Stiles. “This is mountain ash dust. It’s used to stop supernatural creatures.”

“Stop them? In what way?” Stiles asked, frowning as he leaned in to stare at the powder. He looked up at Deaton asking, “Can I touch it?” 

Deaton nodded. Stiles picked a delicate pinch of the dark dust up, frowning as he examined its consistency and feel. “Do you spray them with it or do they have to ingest it?” Stiles asked, rubbing the dust between his fingers, “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“I’ll show you. Hold out your hand,” As Deaton picked up the bottle, Stiles stuck his hand out. He stared in fascination at the small amount of mountain ash that Deaton was pouring into the palm of his hand, “Typically mountain ash is used to create a barrier around the creature. So you can trap them inside some space. Ingestion _ is _ an option but it’s fairly painful for the party involved.” Stiles nodded distractedly, transferring the dust from one hand to the other, transfixed by how smooth the grains were. 

Then much to Derek’s amusement, Stiles licked his finger, dipped it into the small pile, and stuck it into his mouth. He choked on a laugh when Stiles gagged, sticking his tongue out with a disgusted expression, “’at t’sts ‘o’bble!” Stiles exclaimed.

“It doesn’t have any effects on humans besides the terrible taste,” Deaton explained in a tone colored with good humor, watching Stiles spit and splutter as he tried to get the taste out of his mouth. Derek stood up to pour Stiles a glass of water while Deaton explained, “But not all humans can use it.”

As he handed Stiles the glass, Derek was tempted to interrupt and ask what the hell Deaton thought he was doing. What was the point of telling Stiles this information? What was the emissary planning? Or hoping to learn from this? 

Stiles grabbed the glass and drained it in a few gulps, “_ God _ that was _ nasty _ ! Ugh.” Derek blinked in surprise, staring at the glass Stiles was putting on the table. Had he _ inhaled _ the water? 

Turning back towards Deaton, Stiles held his hand up and asked, “So it _ is _special then if not everyone can use it. And why can’t all humans use it? Do you need special training or something?”

“Not exactly,” Deaton replied, “The reason why not all humans can manipulate mountain ash is simpler. There’s two things you need in order to use mountain ash effectively. The first thing is your intent. You see, for the dust to have the desired effect, that is to contain a supernatural being within the barrier, you need hold a very strong belief. The stronger your belief, the stronger the barrier. And the second factor is… You need a ... spark? Or uuh… potential?” Deaton frowned before turning towards Derek, “Is that an appropriate translation of the word?”

Derek nodded before explaining to Stiles, “There’s no real word for it in English but ‘potential’ comes pretty close. You need to have potential in you for magic.”

“And yes, by that logic any human who can do magic _ should _be able wield mountain ash but it’s not always the case. But that’s another topic. The point is that the more you believe, the better you can use mountain ash.”

Derek’s watched Stiles’ eyes grow wide, glancing down at the small pile of mountain ash in his hands, before looking back up. His mouth opened and closed in confusion a few times before he asked, “Believe in what exactly? You said you’re supposed to have belief and intent. And I can get the intent part but… what are you supposed to believe in?” 

“In the outcome. That whatever you’re trying to achieve will happen. If you don’t believe in what you wish to accomplish then all this jar holds is dust. Try it.” 

“For the record, this sounds more like hooey-dust than magic-dust,” Stiles said with a shake of his head, “I mean. What kind of outcome are we talking about? It’s a little too abstract for my taste.”

Deaton nodded towards the jar from his seat and smiled, “Why don’t you try it for yourself. You’ll understand what I mean.”

Waving his free hand in an emphatic ‘no’, Stiles’ reply was swift and sure, “I don’t even know what the hell I’m supposed to do with it and you’re telling me to _ try _ it? The last time I tried to do something without knowing what I was doing I blew a lab up! I doubt you want _ that _ to happen to your office.”

“You can’t make mountain ash explode like that,” Derek told Stiles immediately, “Just… hold us in a certain place.”

Stiles shot him a surprised look as he asked, “Don’t tell me you agree with him and want me to try this out? What if I mess up?”

“Then the only thing that will happen is Derek will be able to step over the mountain ash line easily,” Deaton replied, as serenely as you please. “All I’d like for you to do is pick up that jar and pour it around Derek’s seat in a closed circle. As you do that, think about how the circle is going to protect you from any supernatural creatures. That you’re in a safe space. If that’s okay with you Derek.”

With a tiny shrug, Derek relied, “Sure.” He was curious to see if Stiles would be able to manipulate the mountain ash. 

Stiles’ head shook like a bobble doll, taken aback by Derek’s easy agreement. He gawked at Derek, pretty mouth falling open. Derek stared back, trying not to smile at the sight Stiles was making.

Deaton smiled at Stiles, “Whenever you’re ready. Remember. You need to believe that it will work.”

Brown eyes met his before quickly looking back at Deaton. “I still don’t understand what I’m supposed to be doing with this,” Stiles asked, “I just pour this around you thinking that it’s going to hold you in?”

“That and you need to believe that the circle will protect you. Believe that I won’t be able to cross it because I’m a werewolf.” 

Nodding, Deaton urged Stiles again, “Try it.”

However Stiles chose to eye the jar and its contents with great skepticism. After a long minute and resigned sigh, Stiles picked it up. “Alright. I don’t think this’ll work but if it’ll make you guys happy...” Stiles turned towards him, “Where do you want me to do it?”

“Make it around the chair,” He answered, getting out of his chair and taking a few steps back when Stiles opened the jar, “I’ll try sitting on the chair,” Derek explained when Stiles gave him a puzzled look. 

Still looked more than a little unsure, Stiles nodded in understanding and took a deep breath. He closed his eyes, regulated his breathing before finally opening his eyes and carefully pouring the ash in a thick circle around the empty chair chair, frowning in concentration. 

Walking over to Deaton, Derek whispered, “What do you plan to prove through this?”

“A theory,” Deaton answered without lowering his voice, observing Stiles complete the small circle around his seat, “Well done Stiles. Now, Derek. If you would check the circle.”

With a resigned sigh, Derek muttered, “Don’t blame me if something breaks.” 

Stiles immediately asked, “I thought you said nothing was going to break!”

“I said it wouldn’t _ explode. _There’s a difference,” Derek sighed, “There’s a chance that I might get thrown back due to how strong the barrier is. It… can happen.” 

If that wasn’t the biggest understatement Derek had ever made in his life. Everyone knew that pushing against a true mountain ash barrier came with a kick that would throw a body away hard. The hair on the back of his neck prickled as he neared the barrier. Derek could taste the faint electric ‘taste’ of magic at the back of his throat. It was like blood and ozone mingling together at the back of his tongue. The air around the circle all but crackled with magic.

Shocked that Stiles had managed to erect such a powerful circle, Derek reached his palm out. It stopped several _ inches _ away from where the barrier started. He winced at the bright stab of light shining from underneath his palms. This barrier was leagues stronger than Deaton’s! If he tried to force it, he would probably go flying _ through _the wall rather than into it. Not wanting to push his luck, Derek immediately stepped back and met Stiles’ surprised look with one of his own.

“That’s what I thought,” Deaton murmured.

* * *

Stiles had been through a lot of strange experiences in his life. Partially because he had a curious streak a mile wide which resulted in him landing in some weird situations. But that? Back there? Took the _cake_. It was possibly _the _strangest experience of his life. 

Once they were safely outside the shop, Stiles pointed back at the closed door with his thumb and asked Derek, “Is he always so...” He held his hand up, waggling it in a see-saw motion while frowning at Derek. The shifter was clearly waiting for him to finish his sentence and Stiles couldn’t think of any other way to put it except, “annoyingly cryptic?”

Derek snorted, “Sometimes I think it’d part of his job.” 

It was the dry delivery that made Stiles snort with amusement. The shifter had a sense of humor! Based on their past meetings and Derek’s frowny visage, Stiles hadn’t thought the man to have a funny bone in him. It was _ delightful _to find out that his humor of choice was dry wit. And speaking of choices…Clapping and rubbing his hands with exaggerated glee, Stiles looked around him. There was so much to see and study and in such little time! 

Good thing they were staying here for a while. And if they were going to be staying here for more than a few days, it would made sense for Stiles to know where everything was. First thing he should ask was to give him the nickel tour of the town. But he’d also wanted to check in with Lydia and Danny to see how they were doing.

“Okay so,” Stiles clapped his hands to get Derek’s attention before continuing, “I’d love it if you could show me around town and point out the sights. But I’d really like to go and see where the rest of my group is staying. I’d like to see how everyone’s settling in.” 

While there, he could give the rest of the crew the news about Scott (his best friend was super popular with everyone). Plus he also wanted to check in on Danny and see if he’d gotten that head wound of his checked on. And Stiles was curious about where the group was staying in general. 

Derek looked up at the sky, judging who knew what before replying, “We could. Do you want to go there first or...?”

Hmmm. That was a good question. He tapped a finger against his lips, becoming momentarily distracted when a group of bickering faeries floated by over his head. What would be the best route to take? Wait. Hang on. How would he know the answer to that? He was guest here after all! 

“Whatever you think is best,” Stiles finally answered with a grin. “You know the city better than I do. All I ask is that we take the scenic route. Oh! And I really want to go to that book store we passed on the way over here. I really want to meet the owner.”

“Jim,” Derek gestured to his right, pointing out the road they were going to take, “And I would suggest _ not _ calling him a book worm to his face.”

After a moment’s confusion, Stiles asked, “Then what should I call him?” He did a double take when he saw a trio of _ centaur’s _ calmly trotting past them. This _ city _ ! Fenris hadn’t written a single thing about _ centaurs _! Stiles turned a slack jawed expression at Derek while his finger pointed towards the centaurs.

“Let me guess, you’d like to meet them too?” Stiles nodded dumbly, feeling even more stricken when Derek’s eyes softened in good humor, “I’ll talk to them. See if they’re up for a visit. And like I was saying, don’t call Jim a book worm. He prefers to be called The Book Keeper.”

With Derek leading, they went to the bookshop first. It was more beautiful than anything Stiles could ever imagine. And one look at Jim had Stiles understanding Derek's comment; Jim was a literal worm. Half of Stiles' length and about as fat. He had weird stumpy arms that made Stiles shudder. Jim was slithering behind the counter looking for whatever books Derek had ordered, ordering Stiles not to touch anything that looked valuable. Stiles had given Derek an offended look because what? Did he seem like the vandalizing type?

But then Derek had whispered, “He’s like that with everyone. His books are more precious to him than all the jewels in the worlds.”

Well, Stiles could appreciate that sentiment. He was that way with his own books. Although he was a lot more careless about how he treated them. So while Derek waited for Jim to pull his order out, Stiles made a beeline for the nearest shelf of books and examined the racks. He did a startled double take when he realized it was filled with Stephen King novels. It was a whole _ bookshelf _ of King novels. What. The. _ Hell _ ? Stiles turned around to ask Derek _ how _ they’d gotten these books in but Derek was conversing with the book worm. 

Jim was shaking his dark head, scaley cheeks and snout shimmering under the light orb hanging from the ceiling. “I’m sorry Derek. Not yet. I’ll let you know when it arrives. I’m expecting the next shipment within the week.” 

With his mouth still open, Stiles went back to staring at _ Four Past Midnight _ . Given the fact that they had a whole bookshelf dedicated to King, did that mean he was a super popular author here? Stiles fell into a small giggle fit when he thought, ‘ _ Horror stories involving the supernatural being a bit hit with supernatural creatures! I wonder what they thought about some of his stuff! _’ 

Still shaking in amusement, Stiles moved deeper into the shop, eyes perusing the titles. He ran gentle but lazy fingers across the line of books, feeling paperback, hard binding, and leather by touch alone. The bookshop had looked small from the outside, a tiny hovel stuck between a seamstress and a shoemaker. But it made up for its lack of width by incredible depth. There were at least ten large bookshelves places in a line. And they were all _ filled to the brim _with books. There were books on kinds of subjects, both mundane and magical. In all kind of conditions! Some of them looked brand new and others looked one turn away from falling apart. There were children’s books, classic stories, fiction and non-fiction from the outside world (a very dated collection Stiles noted) and even textbooks! 

But it was the ‘self-published’ section that captured Stiles’ attention. It was towards the very end of the store, in a dimly lit corner. There were three bookshelves filled with parchments bound together with thick thread and leather bound books. Most of the books were journals. There were also self-published papers on some magical topics but they didn’t really catch Stiles’ attention. What _ did _ catch his attention was a small book stuck between two tomes. Stiles had almost passed it over but then doubled back when he’d seen the word ‘history’ embossed on the spine in gold. Stiles went back to read its title. “ _ A Short History of the Establishment of Haven by Patrick Landon _.” 

He’d flipped through the book. Huh. It was typed. Here he’d been expecting a hand written journal. Maybe they’d been turning hand-written type into typed books? That’d be the smart thing to do. Stiles closed the book with a small clap and wondering if he could buy this book. It might be helpful but at the very least, it would be interested to read a shifters account of how Haven was established. But how would he pay for it? He didn’t have any money on him. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Stiles noted Derek walking up to him. With a deep sigh of regret, Stiles returned the book to its place before asking Derek, “Time to go?” 

Derek however, was eyeing the book Stiles had put away. He pulled the book back out, glanced at its title before asking Stiles, “Did you want to buy this?”

Stiles’ face twisted in regret, “I do but I can’t pay for it. I don’t have any money on me.” 

He was taken aback when Derek grunted and walked away, book in hand. “I’ll take care of it.” The shifter said, ignoring Stiles’ confused, “Wait, what?”

Ten minutes later, they were walking out of the bookshop together with Stiles clutching his new book in hand and grinning from ear to ear. He couldn’t help but feel grateful towards Derek. He was a strange guy. On the basis of his limited interactions with Derek, Stiles had initially pegged the shifter as a quiet, intelligent, introvert, and grumpy. Someone who wasn’t too fond of small talk or lengthy conversations. Someone who kept giving into his older sister and possibly had anger issues. Stiles had also gotten the distinct impression that if given a choice between being in a room with random strangers and spending time alone in a library, Derek would pick the library. He seemed to the kind of guy who valued the company of a few people rather than a lot of them.

And that made their interactions, and the time they spent together, all the more valuable. Right?

“I really can’t thank you enough for this,” Stiles repeated for the fifth time at least.

Derek shook his head, “You don’t have to keep thanking me. You wanted the book and I could get it for you. Consider it a gift.”

“I will.” Stiles grinned happily, putting the book away in his jacket pocket, “So. Where to next?”

From the bookshop, they headed to the cottages where Stiles’ friends were staying. And as Stiles had requested, they took the scenic route. Rather than taking the main roads, Derek led them through smaller, winding pathways where passing strangers would bump into Stiles' shoulder. The air was laced with the smell of green and flora because of the vines that were creeping up the stone and wood houses.

Many windows had been thrown up, allowing Stiles to take a peek inside to see who lived there. In one house he saw a furry-faced shifter walking around the room with a baby against his shoulder. Another house, a woman with luminescent wings was leaning out her window to water the flowers underneath. Yet another, a teenager was sliding out the window and running down the street while his mother yelled at him to come back at a decent hour this time.

It was a proper community. Just like the apartment block where Stiles lived. Only different being that this place was so much more prettier. He stretched his hand out to touch the flower laden vine that had covered half of a stone cottage. The flowers shook under his gentle touch and fell to the ground. Stiles bent down to pick a few up and inhaled their smell, sighing in admiration.

He held the flowers out towards Derek, “What are these flowers called?”

“Sweet pea’s I think.”

Had he mentioned that the entire time so far, Derek kept up a fairly steady stream of conversation? It hadn’t just been Stiles asking lots of questions this time. Derek told Stiles all kinds of stories about the people and shops. Complete with snarky comments in the best deadpan delivery Stiles had heard in _ years _ . Seeing that side of Derek, along with his gift, Stiles was forced to conclude he’d misjudged Derek Hale. He _ was _ intelligent, well read, and kindly. And had a sarcastic streak a mile wide, big enough to rival’s Stiles’. And he was an _ excellent _story teller, something that delighted Stiles down to the core. 

And it wasn’t just because he shared sarcastic comments about things. No, it was because he told the story in a way that made even the most boring topic riveting. For example, the history of the bridge that covered the stream that divided the city in two. Or the lavender encrusted staircases they went up. The creation of both things had been rooted in deeply boring local politics but Derek made it sound so _ interesting _. 

When he’d mentioned this to Derek, along with the fact that Derek was _ very _ well read, the shifter had gruffly explained that he was a bit of a history buff. Stiles had waited until Derek wasn’t looking and scrubbed a hand over his face because oh _ God _. All Stiles wanted to do was spend more time in Derek’s company and learn all there was to know about him. This was kind of bad. Really bad.

They soon arrived at the cottages where the rest of the camp was staying. Stiles realized this because he started to see many familiar faces milling around outside the buildings. He stopped to greet a few people, telling them that Scott was okay, he was recovering, he’d come to see them himself soon, and did they know where Danny was? They were directed towards the wooden cottage that had red and yellow leaves crawling over a corner. Derek hung back near the start of the lane, saying he'd wait for Stiles to finish up. It was peculiar sure but Stiles figured Derek wanted to give him space.

Stiles had barely knocked on the door that Danny had thrown the door open, a neat bandage wrapped around his head. 

“Stiles!” Danny exclaimed, grabbing the other man in a quick hug before letting him go, “How’s Scott?”

After reassuring his friend that Scott was okay, Danny invited them both inside but Stiles shook his head, “I just came by to check if you guys were settled in. I need to get back. But I think we’ll be staying with you from tomorrow? Or day after, depending on how soon Scott gets better. There’s room for all of us here, right?”

“More than,” Danny reassured him, “I’ve already got your stuff here, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

“’ppreciate that Danny. Hey, you know where Gerard and Kate are? I wanted to give them a heads up about Scott and Allison.”

Danny pulled a face before answering, “They went with Lydia a couple of hours ago. Said they wanted to see if Scott was okay or not with their own eyes. Plus they wanted to talk with the city’s… mayor? Leader? Whoever’s in charge. I guess they wanted to talk and see if we can stay here for a week or two, rest up, before we get going.”

“Makes sense. That’s what I’d do. We really need to recharge before we go back.” 

Some more small talk later, Stiles said good bye to Danny and promised to come back with Scott and Allison next time.

“Now that business is done,” Stiles gave Derek a huge grin as he walked back up to him, “You promised to take me back to that fountain to see that satyr and faun. And those guys with the weird tattoos”

With a loud exhale, Derek began to walk down the road with a, “I should warn you that those two aren’t the most friendly of people. So I wouldn’t try talking with them or anything.”

Stiles had snorted because come on. Derek was probably trying to psyche him out. As it so happened, he was not. 

“But he was playing his lute or whatever for the kids!” A soaked Stiles exclaimed at Derek, waving his arms around for added emphasis as they walked. Water drops flew in the air as a result. Derek blinked when a few water drops hit his face. As he wiped them off, Stiles continued to rant, “How can a guy who’s nice to kids be such an asshole to everyone one! And what is up with that deep voice of his? I thought faun’s were supposed to have really sweet singing voices!” 

All he’d done was compliment the faun on his playing and the satyr on his dancing! Stiles hadn’t expected to have his feet stomped on, followed by being shoved hard into a nearby water trough. But the _ true _ surprise had been the deep baritone voice coming out of a cherub-faced faun!

“It was a pan flute actually, not a lute. A lute has more strings,” Derek ignored the scathing look Stiles gave him before clearing his throat and explaining, "Satyrs and faun prefer the company of children over adults because they’re more innocent and pure. They’re easier to get along with and children won’t try to double cross them or anything they generally find children easier to trust. Adults... not so much.”

“Remind me to introduce him to my Aunt Margie’s kids,” Stiles grumbled resentfully, eyeing the direction in which the fluffy tailed creature had lopped away, “They’re the total opposite of innocent and pure. God I’m so glad my jacket is waterproof or else I’d catch one hell of a cold,” 

Another thing to be glad of was the fact that the sunlight falling down on them was warm and the skies were clear. As he pulled his cap on over his wet head, Stiles hoped his hair and jeans were going to dry off fast. “Where to next? I hope you’re going to introduce me to someone a lot more friendly than those two.”

Stiles was determined not to let that one poor meeting spoil what had been a perfectly wonderful day. After all, he’d seen so many supernatural creatures already! Stiles had honestly lost count. Kelpies, banshees, faeries, nymphs, centaurs, brownies! Even a few talking animals! And a _ dragon _! And he hadn’t even explored the whole of the valley yet! Who knew what other shifter species existed in this big green valley! Shifters it seemed came in a lot more shapes and sizes than humans could imagine!

“We should have lunch. It’ll give you a chance to rest and dry off at the same time.”

“I’m always down for food. Lead the way.”

As Derek led them towards a small park, where they were and what Stiles had managed accomplished hit Stiles all over again. Despite all the evidence around him, Stiles _ still _ couldn’t wrap his head around it all. He had _ actually found Haven _ . He was walking around in the city! He had been talking with a werewolf for most of the day and learned more about Haven than most scholars had in all their lifetimes _ combined! _

_ ‘If only grandpa could see me now,’ _ Stiles thought with a sad smile, tapping his hands against the bench while waiting for Derek to return with some food, ‘ _ If only he could see all of this himself…’ _

Before his thoughts could turn sad, Stiles shifted his attention to the rest of the park goers. The park was right next to the town square and town hall, a large plot of green that had many patches of trees scattered around it. There was a walking path with stone benches installed at equal intervals. In the middle was a large open spot where Stiles could see a few families and children having picnics. He was people watching for only so long before his stomach began to whine and grumble in distress. Stiles sighed and rubbed his stomach, shifting to the side to glance at the bakery-café across the square where Derek had gone too. 

_ ‘I wonder what he’s getting. And what’s taking so long.’ _

Forgetting about the park, Stiles raised his leg up on the bench, propped his head up on his palm and watched the cafe. It was a cozy looking establishment, serving at least two dozen people inside and outside if Stiles had to hazard a guess. It had a cheerful red and white stripped shade on the outside shading the gleaming window display that had _ Aoibhneas _ painted on it in a delicate, swooping script. It all looked very dainty and elegant. Same could be said of the seat and tables placed outside underneath large umbrellas. Stiles noted that all the tables were full. That must have been why Derek said they should have their lunch in the park.

And speaking of the man! Derek was stepping out of the shop with a large brown bag in hand. Perking up, Stiles watched Derek cross the street and the square before turning to give the bench a quick clean up with his sleeve. It was better than nothing, right? When he looked up, he saw that Derek was taking a step back to let a group of school kids walk by first. Stiles couldn’t help but smile at how endearingly polite Derek was, despite all his gruffness. A few other people came to stand beside Derek, waiting for the long line of kids to pass before walking on.

And it was then, when Stiles’ eyes slipped to see the people standing next to Derek, that he noticed the way they were looking at Derek. So far today, Derek had run into a few people on the street and all of them had greeted him politely before moving on. Stiles hadn’t thought that was weird because Derek was the son of Alpha Hale so people were bound to be a little distant from him. But now he noticed that many of the people were giving Derek’s long looks of … well. Pity. 

He began to wonder why but the answer clicked into his mind almost immediately. _ ‘It’s probably that curse Fenris talked about.’ _ Stiles mused to himself, scooting over to one side of the bench as Derek came closer. 

Would it out of line of him to ask Derek about the circumstances of his curse? Probably. Was it going to stop Stiles from asking? Not at all. His father would be shaking his head at him right now, if he were here. Hell. He was probably sensing that Stiles was going to do something shitty and was already sighing and shaking his head. Social norms were for people with less curious than him.

“So,” Stiles asked, rubbing his hands together as he waited for Derek to sit down, “What did you get us? Doughnuts? Muffins? Sandwiches? A whole chicken?”

With a small laugh, Derek opened the bag and held it out towards him. The heavenly scent coming from inside pulled a happy groan out of Stiles. He stuck his hand into the bag and pulled out the most perfect looking piece of fried chicken he had seen in _ ages _. God bless the angel who’d cooked this. 

“_ Chicken _ !” Stiles moaned happily, directing his adoring gaze at Derek, “Derek, look! _ Fried _ chicken!” He wasn’t ashamed of admitting that he was tearing up in that moment. Not waiting another moment, Stiles took a large bite of succulent meal and moaned again at the spicy flavour. “This it’s so _ good _!” 

After he had all but inhaled two pieces down did Stiles realize that Derek had yet to eat as well.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry!” Stiles mumbled through his bite, remembering his manners at the same time as he swallowed. “You should take some too before I eat all of it. My dad keeps saying I eat like a bottomless pit.” 

But Derek stopped him from nudging the bag over, holding his hand out on the other side. He was smiling toothily, eyes glimmering like cool sapphires, “It’s fine. The chicken was for you anyways. I got myself a sandwich.” 

He held it up for Stiles to see. The sandwich was wrapped up in thin brown paper, and was as big as Derek’s hand. 

“Oh. If you’re sure?”

“I’m very sure,” Derek smiled at him before turning his attention towards his sandwich.

Stiles stared at the clawed hands carefully peeling the paper away, amazed at how gentle Derek was being. It was only when Derek’s hands stilled that Stiles realized he was staring. And looked up to find a critical look being directed at him. 

“Sorry.” He apologized sheepishly, fiddling with the bone in his hands. “I was just...”

“Staring at my claws.” There was something about Derek’s tone that made Stiles feel guilty in a flash. Derek’s resigned tone implied he was _ used _ to being stared at. 

Looking down at his own hands, Stiles wondered what to do with the bone before putting it on the side of the bag, “Yeah. Sorry. I just. I’ve never seen. You know.” He made his hand into a claw, ‘grr’-ing lightly at Derek before smiling weakly at him. “It’s kind of amazing.”

“Amazing?” Derek repeated in a voice heavy with disbelief. The deep lines between his eyes deepened further as he frowned. “_ That’s _ the word you’d use?”

“Of course!” Stiles laughed and shook his head, “What other word would be better?”

Derek looked away muttering, “How about monstrous.” 

Well… Okay. He did have a point with that. Feeling extremely uncomfortable at having brought this topic up, Stiles scrubbed his hand against the back of his neck before saying, “I guess that’s an option. But it’s not one I’d use.” 

The look Derek gave him was as piercing as it was heavy. It made Stiles feel naked, forcing him to look away. So he turned his attention towards his food. First he carefully pushed the chicken bones away towards the inside of the bench, right against where the two stones met. Next Stiles pulled his bag closer to examine its content with greater care. There was one more piece of fried chicken left, along with two pieces of corn bread. Stiles pulled the bread out first, tearing it off into small bite sized pieces before popping them into his mouth.

They lapsed into an uncomfortable sort of silence that only grew and grew. It felt like a storm was brewing between them, complete with thunder and hailstones the size of golf balls. And Stiles had no idea how to break this tension. Chewing slowly on the last of the corn bread, Stiles frantically wondered what to talk about. Which topic would restore balance between them? He could ask about the park but ugh, that was too obvious wasn’t it? Maybe he could ask if the town square had seen any action? Yeah, that might be the better thing to ask. 

Stiles swallowed, getting ready to ask Derek his question, when a Dullahan crossed in front of them. His mouth immediately fell open at the sight of the tall, black rider trotting down the path with its head tucked under its arm, cornbread forgotten. He leaned forward to watch the dark horse and rider move down the path. 

He didn’t realize that his mouth had fallen open until he felt a gentle tap against his chin. Stiles jumped and glanced at Derek, who was grinning faintly at him, “I’m surprised you haven’t caught flies yet given how many times your jaw keeps dropping.”

Ignoring the joke, and the tingles that raced down his neck at Derek’s soft touch, Stiles asked, “Was that a Dullahan?” 

Derek followed Stiles finger and nodded, “That’s Mabel, and yes, she’s a Dullahan. But you don’t want her to catch you staring.”

“Why not?” Stiles asked, turning his wide eyed look onto Derek, who was scowling at the pickle that had slid out of his sandwich. “Do all Dullahan’s hate it when someone stares at them? Is it part of their lore?”

Derek’s lips twitched at the corners, “She just hates it when people stare at her.” 

The simple explanation was so unexpected, so _ normal _, that it prompted a record scratch noise to blurt in his head. 

“Wait…” Stiles said slowly because he wasn’t sure what he wanted to ask first, “So she… Mabel… just doesn’t like people looking at her?” 

Turning his attention back to his sandwich, Derek asked, “Wouldn’t _ you _ hate it if people stared at you where you went?”

Well. That was. A rather obvious and straightforward explanation wasn’t it. Kind of boring actually. With a small laugh, Stiles shook his head and tossed the bare chicken leg into his bone pile. “Touche. I’m guessing headless horsemen are a rarity even in the supernatural world, huh?”

“There are very, _ very _few creatures who can walk around with their head cut off. So yes.” 

Wasn’t that fascinating! Stiles wondered if Dullahan’s were naturally rare or if there had been… ‘circumstances’ leading to a drop in their population. He hoped it the former rather than the latter. Stiles opened his mouth to ask Derek what other magical creatures would be considered rare when a quack interrupted him.

Looking down, Stiles saw a family of ducks waddling down the path. Probably towards the small pond Stiles could see on his left through the tree line. Was there any cornbread left that he could share? Stiles checked the bag but there were nothing but crumbs there. But then Derek pulled a corner off his sandwich, tore it into a few smaller pieces, and threw it towards the birds. The ducklings immediately swarmed around the bread, fighting to steal the pieces out of their siblings beaks before hurriedly waddling over to Derek. 

He felt a smile growing, growing, growing as he watched the ducklings hop and jump on Derek’s boots as the shifter pulled a longer strip of bread off his sandwich. One of the ducklings was fighting with a shoe lace and the other kept nipping at Derek’s jeans. Stiles had to bite his bottom lip to keep from cooing at the cute sight. Instead of throwing the pieces at the birds, Derek lowered his palm down to the ducklings level and let them eat out of his hand.

When one of the birds rubbed its beak investigatively against Derek’s fingers and nipped at the tips, Stiles found himself saying, “You’re not you know.” It was after Derek looked from where he was in a small tug of war with a duck that Stiles continued, “Monstrous, I mean. You’re not. Just look at you! You’re feeding a bunch of ducks some bread and getting your pants chewed off. That’s pretty far from being monstrous. It’s closer to being adorable than anything else.” 

Derek stared at him, frozen in place as he stared up at Stiles. The ducks continued to peep at them, begging for more food. But when they realized they were getting more bread, they began to waddle back towards their mother who stood waiting for them a foot away. He watched the birds waddle away out of the corner of his eye. Stiles held Derek’s gaze and hoped that his sincerity showed. Because after spending some time around Derek, _ how _ could _ anyone _ think that he was a monster? 

It was finally Derek who broke their staring match, clearing his throat before he looked away awkwardly. There was a faint pink color rising high on the man’s cheekbones. The sight of it made Stiles’ want to lean in and nudge Derek’s ribs with his elbow. 

“You’re weird,” Derek finally said softly. 

Like he hadn’t heard _ that _ before. In all kinds of tones. Most people said it in a derisive way, like it was a bad quality. Usually coupled with descriptors like stranger, delusional, and hyper active. Stiles had learned not to take those words to heart but it still hurt to hear himself being described like that. Although this was probably the first time someone had said in such a kind voice though. Still didn’t take the sting out of those words though. And if Derek thought he was weird too then Stiles would not take it to heart. Even though he kind of already had. 

With a weak laugh, Stiles said, “I get that a lot. You’re not the first person to say that about me.” 

He looked down at the cleaned chicken boned, scooped them up, and poured them into the empty brown bag. Stiles could feel Derek’s gaze on him but ignored it. Instead he reached out to grab the greasy paper Derek’s sandwich had been wrapped in. Warm fingers curled around his wrist. A shiver ran up Stiles’ arm, goosebumps breaking over his skin as he looked up into Derek’s concerned face. In their close proximity, Stiles noted for the first time how _ beautiful _ Derek’s eyes were. He’d thought they were gray or hazel but no. They were a beautiful mix of green and hazel that was _ breath taking _. 

Those same eyes were filled with an urgency that was matched Derek’s voice and expression, “I don’t mean that in a bad way,”

“There’s another way to take it?” Stiles couldn’t stop himself from asking wryly, trying to keep his heart from beating out of his chest. Derek’s hand was dry. Big enough to easily span Stiles’ wrist. His grip firm but loose enough for Stiles to break if he wanted. And so warm. God, Derek was so _ warm _. 

“I’ve never met anyone like you.” He began haltingly, eyes shifting minutely as he looked right at Stiles, “Most people…most _ humans _ look at me and all they see is my werewolf side. They don’t look beyond...” 

Derek paused, face twisting in an unhappy expression before he exhaled shortly and tried again, “You’re the first person who’s met me and didn’t judge me because of how I looked. You haven’t acted like it matters. And that’s wei... that’s _ unusual _.”

The confused, awed tone made Stiles forget how to breathe. It was more important to hold Derek’s gaze and try to parse out the emotions passing through the man’s eyes. Hazel-green, Stiles decided. That was their color. Derek’s earnest look said it all though. He felt bad about unintentionally hurting Stiles’ feelings and was asking for forgiveness. 

Swallowing a few times to wet his dry throat did nothing to soothe the rough edge to his voice. “So you’re saying it like a compliment?” Stiles asked, hoping Derek wouldn’t notice the way his teasing voice was a little hoarse.

Thin lips twitched at the corners. “I am,” Derek answered a slow nod. 

It seemed to Stiles that time was standing still. Or that someone had caused time to slow down around them. Their entire conversation felt like it was happening in a vacuum where no one else could touch. Not even sound because the noise of the bustling city had lowered to nothing. In the next few seconds, Stiles noted several details about Derek he hadn’t noticed before. The length of his lashes, the upsweep of his hair, the number of gold flecks in his eyes, the number of crinkles he had between his eyes. 

Wait. Oh hell. He _ was _ starting to fall for Derek. 

“Oh.” Stiles mumbled dumbly, feeling his limbs grow weak at the realization. He stared down at Derek’s hand still latched onto his wrist. “Thank you, I suppose.” 

Derek’s fingers squeezed his wrist gently once before letting go, leaving behind nothing a phantom feeling that lingered for the rest of the day. 

* * *

It wasn’t that Derek was _ unhappy _ he had to spend the day away from home running all kinds of errands. It was just that … as Derek rode through the city, passing a few shops that he and Stiles had visited yesterday, he found himself remembering and missing the human.

They hadn’t met or spoken to reach other since last night when Stiles had headed upstairs to have dinner with his friends. Derek had remained downstairs with the others, wondering every so often if he ought to go and check on the humans. But Isaac had told them all that one of the humans that had come to visit today had stayed behind, a petite red head by the name of Lydia. She’d refused to leave Allison’s side and had apparently given Scott _ quite _a dressing down. 

So while he’d been disappointed that Stiles hadn’t come down for dinner, Derek had reassured himself that they would meet at breakfast at least. But then the next morning dawned. Derek hadn't even sat down when a list of errands had been pushed into his hands along with a wrapped lunchbox. Constance had pushed him towards the door, telling him to go to the fishmonger’s first to get the freshest fish before closing the backdoor.

Resolved to finish as fast as he could, Derek had fetched Bella, his mare, from the stables and set out towards the market. After the fishmongers, Derek went to the butcher, the baker, the milkman, and a few smaller shops. All together it took him perhaps two hours; breakfast had long ended by the time he'd returned home. 

Then Derek was told that Stiles and his friends had left with Isaac for Scott’s training. Derek was immediately tempted to go and join them. There was a spot in the forest behind the house that Isaac preferred to go to train the newly bit Hale pack members. It was sort of like their unofficial training grounds. It was just a 15 minute walk out the door. But if Derek did that then he’d be putting of the rest of his _own_ errands, the same ones he’d had to put off to escort Stiles to Deaton. And he _ knew _ Mr. Gunther wouldn’t appreciate him postponing their appointment for a second day in a row. And he _ had _ promised Jim that he’d deliver his old books to him before nightfall. 

So Derek had a quiet lunch at home, pinned his hopes on dinner, and left the house to finish his own overdue tasks. He took his time, directing Belle into a lazy clop as he went from one store to another. Given how his day had panned out, Derek should have expected more bad news when he’d gotten back. Stiles and the others had left already. 

“They said they didn’t want to intrude anymore,” Cora explained, quickly putting fork after fork down on the table next to the plates. Derek pulled an annoyed face and put a knife down on the table a little bit too hard. The noise made Cora look up curiously, “You seem unusually interested in them. Don’t tell me you still don’t trust them and wanted them to stay here so that you could keep an eye on them all the time?”

“It’s something else.” Laura sing-songed as she walked into the room with a giant salad bowl in her hands. Derek immediately glared at her because really? _ Really _? 

Cora looked between them before frowning hard at Derek as she tried to figure out what Laura had meant. 

Laura laughed and ruffled Cora’s hair, “You’ll figure it out.” And sauntered back into the kitchen.

“I hate it when she does that.” Cora grumbled immediately. 

Derek grunted in return. He didn’t think _ anyone _ liked it when Laura acted like that. He was almost done putting all the knives in place when he felt Cora’s gaze on him. Looking up, he saw Cora immediately duck her head, red cheeks hiding behind a curtain of her hair.

With a small sigh, Derek asked, “What is it?”

Cora hesitated a moment, placing the last fork down carefully on the table before asking, “What did she mean when she said it’s something else? Is there another reason why you want those humans around?”

“It’s nothing. And you don’t need to worry about it. Make sure every place has their napkin,” Derek answered, turning to grab the small stack of bowls that sat on the low cabinets behind him. 

As he began to put the bowls in their place, Cora pointed a dinner plate at him. “I’ll figure it out. Don’t think I won’t.”

“Put the plate down and help me with these,” Derek answered as he cringing internally. He sure hoped that Cora wouldn’t figure it out. He didn’t want _ two _ sisters acting all smug and overly giggly anytime the topic of Stiles or his feelings for the man came up. Thankfully, the rest of the family began to pour in at that point. It didn’t take long for Cora to get swept up in a conversation with Erica and Boyd, the trio sitting down at the end of the table. Derek let out a relieved sigh before gesturing for Isaac to take the seat next to his.

As soon as they were sitting down, and after Derek had made sure no one was paying attention, Derek asked, “I heard you started Scott’s training today. How did it go?”

“Pretty good all things considered,” Isaac smiled. “He was pretty confused at first but once I started explaining everything, he did _ really _ well.” His face twisted in annoyance. “But that friend of his, Stiles? He asked _ so _ many questions! It was kind of annoying the way he kept interrupting me. Allison and Lydia asked questions too but Stiles was just...” Isaac rolled his eyes hard in complete exasperation.

Derek listened attentively to Isaac as he went on to explain how Scott had done, asking an occasional question here and there and trying very hard not to ask about Stiles in the middle. He quickly realized what a good idea it had been to get Isaac to mentor Scott. As a bitten werewolf himself, there was no one else better to explain the change and it’s challenges to Scott. 

Isaac repeatedly expressed his astonishment about the ease with which Scott had taken to his new talents. “Understanding the whole anchor concept took him a while because, you know. It’s a really abstract concept. But once he got it, he realized what his anchor was pretty fast. He’d unconsciously picked it from the start. Just took him a while to realize that.”

“Oh?” Derek asked, ready to ask for details because a bitten werewolf instinctively finding an anchor so fast was rare. 

“Mom’s here!” Laura announced, causing all conversations to abruptly halt. 

They turned as one to look at the doorway, smiling at the alpha as she walked in. Talia smiled back, gaze lingering on Derek and Cora for a moment before sitting down at the head of the table. Laura followed, sitting down on the open seat to Talia’s left. There was silence as their alpha accepted the bread basket Laura passed her, tearing a piece off and eating it before gesturing for everyone to help themselves. 

Immediately chatter broke across the table. One person asking another to pass a disk or the salt. Derek himself was passing on the peas and reaching for the gravy boat when the sound of someone banging on the front door rang all the way into the dining room. Everyone froze mid-action, staring at each other before a few heads turned towards the foyer. 

“Were we expecting someone?” Erica asked the table at large even though her eyes went straight to Talia.

“Could be a messenger,” Boyd offered in return, putting his napkin down on the table before starting to get up.

But the alpha shook her head, pushing herself out of her seat. “Laura.” She called out, waiting for Laura to step in line behind her before swiftly crossing the room. 

There was a moment of silence before there was a mad scramble to follow Talia. Everyone falling over each other in curiosity to see who was at the door and how Talia would react. 

“We’re not children anymore,” Derek groaned as he watched the others run out of the room.

Erica shot him a look, “And you don’t want to know who it is?”

Well. That was true. A minute later Derek was sneaking through the hallway and trying to sneak a peek around the corner into the foyer where his mom and sister were going. Boyd had cast a silencing rune around them in the form of a bubble, causing all of them to move in a tight group. He found himself scrunched between Isaac and Erica as they came within earshot of the foyer, where Talia and Laura stood

“Is this what sardines in a can feel like?” Isaac muttered. 

Erica was quick to hush him, hissing, “Shut up and let us listen! Not all of us have werewolf hearing”

“They aren’t haven’t said anything yet,” Derek pointed out.

The blonde tried to stomp on his toes but wound up slamming her heel down on Isaac’s toes, making the curly haired man yelp in pained dismay. Thank God for Boyd and the silencing rune he’d cast around them or _ that _would have given them away. 

But then Laura shot them a warning look over her shoulder, causing Erica’s apology to be silenced almost immediately. It also made them jerk back, shoulders hitting the wall hard.

“How’d she know we were here?” Erica hissed.

“Alpha-heir senses,” Derek muttered mockingly, causing Erica to snort and slap a hurriedly hand over her mouth. 

Everyone held their breath when they heard the door click open. Who would it be? Would it be some kind of emergency or something far more mundane?

There was a long pause before Talia exclaimed, “Peter!” 

Uncle Peter? Derek leaned forward to take a look for himself. He saw his mother taking a step back, holding the door open for the dark haired man to walk in. He looked the same as always. Broad shouldered, sly, and pleased like a cat that had snagged the canary. Peter had barely pulled his knitted cap off his head before Talia was grabbing him in a hug.

“Welcome back! We weren’t expecting you back so soon!” She was saying as she pulled back with a smile, “Did you just arrive? Are Deucalion and the others with you as well?”

Peter brushed his lips over Talia’s cheek in a quick kiss before answering, “They decided to take the long road back. We didn’t manage to get all the supplies we needed so they decided to stop by a few more towns before returning. I didn’t want to wait so I decided to come back on my own.” 

His eyes slipped towards them, smirking as he caught sight of them eavesdropping before turning back to Talia. “I thought I’d surprise you all.”

“It’s a surprise alright.” Talia laughed, helping him take his large bag off his shoulders before patting his back, “Come. We were just about to eat. Boyd, Erica, could you set another place on the table?” 

Jumping, Boyd and Erica immediately made a run for the kitchen, “How does she _ do _that?” Derek heard Erica hiss-ask Boyd.

Derek exchanged a look of wry amusement look with Cora who was trying to smother her giggles with one hand. They never could fool their mother. Stepping out of their hiding place, Derek went to greet Peter first.

“Uncle Peter,” Derek grinned and gave the older man a quick hug and shoulder pat, “How was your trip this time?”

“Long and uncomfortable as always. I did find an excellent art history book that I think you’ll appreciate. Remind me to give it to you before we turn in. Cora. Isaac.” Peter nodded at them both before asking, “What’s for dinner?” 

They walked back to the dining room together, listening to Peter describe his journey. It sounded the same as any other supply run but Derek never grew tired of hearing people describe the outside. As they entered the room, Boyd and Erica were sitting down. They’d put Peter’s plate to Talia’s left, a space that typically was left open at meal times when Peter was out of the city. And as soon as Peter was seated, dinner resumed. As eager as Derek was to hear Peter’s stories, he was more anxious to get back to his conversation with Isaac. He could always track Peter down tomorrow and ask him to share his stories then. 

“What were you telling me before? About Scott?”

Isaac paused, frowning as he thought back. “About Sc-oh! Yeah, his anchor." 

“You said something about how he seemed to have picked an anchor before you’d even explained it to him?” Derek took a bite from his plate, while Isaac cut a piece of meat up into a bite. 

Spearing the meat, Isaac answers, “I think he’s using his wife as his anchor? He said that he felt calmer whenever she was around or was in contact with him. And they’ve been together since he was bit so…” The beta shrugged, leaning forward to pluck a roll out of the basket Boyd was holding his way before sitting back down. “He didn’t seem half as interested in the details of the whole process as Stiles though.”

That sounded very much like him. Derek could easily imagine Stiles bombarding Isaac with a thousand questions while the beta tried to help Scott. He lowered his head to hide his smile.

Isaac missed the smile thankfully, being too busy focusing on eating his food, “He wouldn’t shut up to be completely honest!” Isaac said exasperatedly. “He asked more questions than Scott and Allison _ combined _ . He wanted to know _ everything _ there was to know about being a werewolf. I’m tempted to pick a few books up from Deaton and giving it to him.” 

Stiles might appreciate having access to more information about the different creatures that lived here but werewolves in particular might hold more of his interest considering Scott’s state. He wondered if their family library had any relevant books on the subject, something that would be easily to understand. 

Making a mental note to ask Deaton, Derek nodded distractedly. “That might not be a bad idea. It’ll at least save you from answering more of his question. How did Allison take it? Did she seem okay with Scott’s new lease on life?” Derek asked after a beat.

“More than okay. She’s taking it pretty damn well! The whole time she wasn’t scared of Scott, even when they tried to spar for a while,” Isaac snorted here, “But that makes sense when you think about it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” Isaac paused a moment to gather his thoughts before continuing, “I don’t think it makes that much of a difference to her that Scott’s a werewolf? She’s just grateful and happy that Scott’s _ alive _ so it doesn’t matter if he’s got a ‘monthly condition’.” Isaac made sarcastic air quotes at the term Derek made a face and snorted. “I know right? Stiles’ words, not mine. But she just… seems to have accepted the situation? Like I said, I think she’s just grateful that Scott’s still alive.”

Something about Isaac’s tone made Derek pause and eye his friend for a long moment. Isaac scraped some mashed potatoes on his fork, on top of the meat before taking the bite, avoiding Derek’s eyes the whole time. “Isaac.” Derek said slowly, “Please don’t tell me that you like her.”

“I don’t like her,” Isaac answered easily, tearing the roll in two. 

Derek stared his pack brother down, waiting for him to crack. While Isaac might be a great werewolf, he was a tremendously poor liar. And easy to crack if you stared at him long and hard enough. 

Noticing the look, Isaac rolled his eyes and repeated, “I _ don’t_!”

Derek sighed in relief, cutting the chicken breast into a smaller bite before popping it into his mouth. The last thing he wanted was a repeat of last year’s incident where Isaac had developed a crush on a beta from another pack who already had a boyfriend. Things had gotten messy fast and Isaac had had his heart crushed, metaphorically. The last thing he wanted was for his wolf brother to fall for another girl he couldn’t have. 

“I like them both.”

Derek choked on his bite, thumping his chest with a fist. There were two pairs of hands slapping his back helpfully which he waved away after getting a gulp of air in. Grabbing his glass, Derek finished the glass in a few gulps and exhaled harshly.

Of all the damned unexpected twists.

He gave Isaac an incredulous look, hissing, “_ Both_? Scott _ and _ Allison?” 

Isaac _ had _to mean Scott and Allison, right? And not Stiles and Allison? A voice in his head groaned at his childish thoughts, muttering _ ‘Stiles is not an object. Stop thinking of him like that. He’s a person and Isaac can like him if he wants. Stiles is very likeable after all.’ _

With a helpless shrug, Isaac pushed his carrots to one side. “The McCall’s are...” While Isaac searched for words, Derek breathed out in relief before noticing the odd look Cora was giving him. She mouthed, ‘You okay?’ and he nodded. “They’re incredible people.” Isaac finished with a weak shrug. “It’s hard to explain. I just like them both. They’re not like any other human I’ve met. They remind me of the humans from back when.”

Squeezing the beta’s shoulder, Derek answered, “I know what you mean.” 

Surprised blue eyes shot up to meet his. Isaac searched his gaze for a minute, frowning minutely. His eyes narrowed for a moment before the realization hit him. Isaac mouthed Stiles name and Derek found himself sighing and nodded.

Isaac let out a loud bark of laughter, shaking his head, “That is _ hilarious. _” Derek felt heat crawl up the back of his neck, growing hotter when he noticed the few curious eyes turning their way. Including his mother.

“What’s so funny?” Peter asked with a winning smile.

Derek opened his mouth to lie but Isaac beat him to the punch. “Derek was just telling me about Stiles’ reaction to seeing Jonathan, the new baker.” 

It was incredibly difficult to hide his relieved exhale at Isaac’s help and Derek got the feeling that certain people (read: his immediate family) picked up on it nonetheless. Isaac went on to explain, laughter growing, “He’d almost fallen back when Jonathan showed off all his arms.” Isaac explained with a grin. 

Derek felt his lips curl up at the memory. When Jonathan had stood up from behind the counter with a tray in each of his eight arms, Stiles had _ yelled _ and flailed so hard he’d crashed into Derek. Who had almost toppled over into the lady standing behind him when the human did his level best to _ climb _on Derek’s shoulders, shouting at the top of his voice about tentacle monsters. And Jonathan? Had been so startled by Stiles’ extreme reaction that he dropped all but two of the tray’s he’d been holding up. 

“Stiles?” Peter asked, pale eyes sharpening at the name, “Is he one of the humans who we’re letting stay with us?” 

Derek nodded along with the others. Peter hummed contemplatively, linking his fingers over the table. “This... Stiles. Isn’t he the one who literally stumbled upon the city? He’s got to be a remarkable human if he managed to just pass through the final barrier without any difficulty. Has anyone questioned him about that?”

“Deaton did,” Talia answered, “As did I and Laura. It doesn’t look like he used any malicious magic to get through. It was… strange. Deaton theorized that the barrier let him through because his intentions were pure.”

“Hmm, is that so? Would anyone mind if I questioning this man too? Just to make sure we’ve covered all the basis?”

Talia shrugged, “If you want too. Feel free to find Stiles and talk with him.”

* * *

“Where’s Lydia?” Stiles asked, pulling a chair out and dropping down in it while looking around the room. He hadn’t seen her all day but had expected to see her when they all came down for dinner at least. 

After putting the last dish down, Allison sat down across from him. Stiles took a moment to examine the table. Meatloaf casserole, salad, something that was possibly a fish curry, cold milk, and steamed vegetables. Stiles licked his lips and gave Allison a pleading look, “We could start before the others?”

“No,” Allison replied easily and immediately, “We’re going to wait for everyone to show up and _ then _we’ll eat. And Lydia’s still reading in her room. I think.” 

That answer made Stiles forget his hunger for the moment. “Still?” Stiles laughed.

If _ he _ had been curious about the city and its history, then Lydia had been positively _ voracious _ in her pursuit to learn everything and anything she could know. After she’d found out that Stiles had met up with Deaton (and gotten a tour of the city, which included Jim’s bookshop), she had demanded Stiles to take him to the healer and the shop. He’d obeyed and the next thing Stiles had known, he had been lugging a huge load of books, parchments and scrolls back to the guest house for Lydia to read. As soon as Stiles had put his load down on the table in Lydia’s room, he’d been pushed out with a, “Get out, I need to read.”

Granted he’d spent most of the day holed up in his own room as well, stuck in the pages of the history book Derek had bought him. But! He’d come out of his room a few times to go to the bathroom. He’d come down for lunch, walking down the stairs as he read. Stiles had sat down at the table with the book behind his plate, eating and reading at the same time. 

With an amused grin, Allison called out in her normal voice, “Scott? Can you remind Lydia it’s dinner time?” They both looked up at the ceiling and waited for the shifter to stomp his foot in acknowledgement. 

When it came a few seconds later, Allison beamed at Stiles, “Supernatural hearing had its advantages.”

“Scott wouldn’t agree with it _ that _ much,” Stiles reminded Allison, thinking back to the pained faces Scott had made when his hearing had peaked suddenly, making him hear a fighting couple several houses away. “But it _ does _ have its advantages, that’s true.” 

His smile gentled into a softer look as he reached across the small table to grasp Allison’ hand. “How are you holding up? With Scott’s... y’ know. Change and all.”

The woman sighed, looking very tired when she met Stiles’ gaze. “Alright, I guess. We... _ He _ didn’t have that much of a choice. It was literally a life or death situation and I can’t... let that turn into a regret. I can’t think that it was a mistake. I’d rather have Scott as a werewolf and alive instead of human and dead. If that means having to help him deal with claws and fangs once a month then... I will.”

Even a blind man would have seen the love and determination shining in her dark eyes. It warmed Stiles’ heart, his fingers tightening around Allison’s hand before he murmured, “Scott’s lucky to have you.”

“Who’s lucky to have who?” Danny asked, slipping into the empty seat next to Stiles. He shot the pair an interested look, eager for conversation clearly.

Letting go of Allison’s hand, Stiles used his free hand to give Danny’s back a friendly slap. “Danny! Have I missed you face! Where’ve you been all day? How’s the head?”

Danny gave him a confused frown. “Why are you talking like that? We met this morning for breakfast.”

“I know,” Stiles said with a grin. “But you went off into your room to tinker with your gizmo’s and stuff and I missed you.”

Danny rolled his eyes and mock punched him in the jaw. Pretending to be gravely hurt, Stiles playfully groaned and fell down on the table face first. He laughed when Allison chuckled at their antics. From this comfortable spot, he looked up at his friend. “Seriously though Danny. How’s the head? No more headaches?”

The tanned man raised a hand up to touch his forehead and the small bandage taped there. “Yeah. I don’t know what that healer used but it was _ really _ effective. Better than the stuff you and Lydia made. You should ask him what he used. It healed my cut in what? A day?”

Stiles stuck a pin in that suggestion. Surely there was no harm in asking Deaton for the recipe, right? If the man was willing to share his books with Stiles, then he’d be more than willing to share the recipe of his healing poultice. Stiles off-handedly wondered if this poultice was the same one that Fenris had spoken of in his journal. The one the Emissary had used to heal his leg.

“I can ask him next time I meet him.” Stiles agreed easily, “No harm in it.”

“Do you think he’ll share the ingredients and process with you?” Allison planted both elbows on the table, forearms pressed down flat, “You know how some healers are. They tend to keep their process and ingredients a secret.” 

“True,” Stiles agreed, sitting up straight. He picked up a knife, pressed the tip into the wood and began to twirl the metal around. “But he _ did _ lend us all those scrolls and stuff without much of a fuss. I don’t think he’d mind sharing a simple recipe for a healing poultice. Most healers tend to be just as stingy when it comes to sharing their books and stuff. ” 

While she looked doubtful, Allison replied, “If you say so.”

“It’s a _ little _ strange though isn’t it?” Danny asked, poking the meatloaf casserole in front of them. He spooned some of it up before letting it fall back. “How nice everyone is here? I thought they’d be a lot more... blood thirsty.”

The door swished open, bringing in Scott and Lydia. Stiles threw his hands up in exaggerated relief, “Thank God! What the hell took you guys so long? We were going to start without you.” 

“You wouldn’t dare,” Lydia answered immediately, looking worn out but incredibly pleased as she took her seat across from Danny. Scott sat down next to Allison, putting his hand on top of hers with a beaming smile. 

“What’s for dinner?” Scott asked.

With an elaborate flourish, Stiles pointed at each dish. “We have meatloaf casserole, steamed vegetables, something that I think is fish but don’t take my word for it, and salad.”

“And for drinks, fresh milk or cold water, fresh from the spring.” Allison finished, holding up the jug of water. 

Lydia held her plate out and gestured for Danny to spoon some of the fish curry in. The merry sound of light conversation and cutlery clinking against plates warmed Stiles’ heart. This was far better than sitting in a room in the Hale house with just Scott and Allison. Sitting in the tiny cottage that Lydia and Danny had claimed for themselves was a considerable step up in terms of ‘homeliness’. And there was the additional benefit of a complete lack of Argent’s and creepy Matt sitting with them. Thank God that each cottage had enough room in it for five people at once, or else Stiles is sure that Matt would have weaseled his way into the cottage. 

Gerard and Kate had taken up residence in the cottage two doors down, while Matt had been housed with some of the support staff next door. Stiles assumed that because Matt couldn’t be _ in _the cottage, then he’d be as close as possible to it. He snorted wondering what had stopped the dude from pitching his tent right outside Scott and Allison’s window.

Anyways. The point was that present dinner company was _ perfect _ from Stiles’ perspective. A tiny part of him wondered it would have been like if Derek had been there as well. He was quick to squash that thought down, hurriedly shoveling his food into his mouth. 

Danny saw him spooning several bites of the casserole into his mouth and worriedly pointed out, “You’re going to choke if you keep that up. Are you trying to inhale your food? Jesus, Stiles.”

Taking a few exaggerated chews to show Danny that he knew what was doing, thank you, Stiles swallowed the food down. And asked Lydia, “So. “Read anything good in the stuff we got from Deaton?” 

The redhead speared a pea and shrugged delicately, “Depends on your definition of the word really. Most of the books and scrolls Deaton gave us are first-hand accounts of people who helped found this city. And some of them are _ incredibly _ dull. This one shifter went on for three _ pages _ about what kind of wood they should use to make the first houses. This,” Lydia pointed her fork up at the ceiling and waved it around, “was one of the first structures they had made.”

Stiles gave the wooden beams over their head a contemplative, “Huh. Remind me to give you the book I got from the bookshop. It’s an abridged history written by the son of one of the founders.”

“When did you get a book?” Lydia asked suddenly, “Did you exchange one of your books for it? You never said anything about having bought a book.”

“Uuuh, no,” Stiles tried to ignore the warmth creeping up from under his shirt collar and heaped some of the fish curry into his plate, “I didn’t buy it.”

“Please don’t tell me you didn’t steal it.”

“Of course not!” Stiles exclaimed, throwing her a wounded look. His cheeks felt like they were on fire when he mumbled, “Derek got it for me.” 

The silence on their side of the table prompted the others to fall silent in curiosity as well. 

“Derek?” Lydia asked slowly while Stiles stared at his plate. “Derek Hale? He bought the book for you?”

Stiles made several faces, ready to make an excuse up before giving up and nodding. “Yeah. Said it was a gift.”

“Well,” Lydia declared after a small pause, “That was nice of him. You must have made a really good impression on him if he’s buying you gifts.”

Stiles couldn’t help but grin a little at that, feeling something close to hope blooming inside his chest. Stiles supposed he _ had _made a good impression on Derek. Wouldn’t that be great?

Danny took the opportunity to bring up the earlier topic of conversation. “I was talking about this before! Does anyone else find it strange how nice the shifters are treating us? After all the stories we’ve heard, I was expecting them to be totally different than how they are.”

The foursome exchanged a look with each other before making a face or shrugging in reply. “It’s pretty weird but we do owe them our lives.” Scott pointed out. “Most of all me. If it weren’t for them, I wouldn’t have made it. I don’t think any of us would have made it if Stiles hadn’t found this place. Hell. They didn’t even have to let us stay but… here we are. Honestly I’m just grateful for their help.”

Allison nodded in agreement, “I’m still not 100 percent convinced that they don’t have some... end game but I don’t think it’s anything bad. I mean. If they wanted to do something then they’ve had more than enough chance. They’ve got the home ground advantage _ and _are magical creatures.”

Danny turned to Lydia, waiting for her to weigh in on the topic. Stiles was surprised when her eyes met his for a long moment, like she was trying to read his answer from his eyes rather than wait for his words. With a slow blink, she turned to look at Danny. “I think that they _ do _ have something planned but it’s not bad, just like Allison said. And I think it’s linked to Stiles.”

Fork freezing half way up to his mouth, Stiles stared at Lydia with open mouthed surprise, “Me? How does – But th- What makes you say that?”

Lydia put her knife and fork down, frowning slightly as she leaned back in her seat. “Remember what you told us about your visit to Deaton? And how he was questioning you?” Stiles nodded quickly, “You told us how surprised Deaton looked when you told him that you didn’t even notice a barrier in place. I think that’s the key point.”

“Key point for what exactly?” Allison asked with a confused frown, looking between her best friend and Stiles, “Am I missing something?”

“Do you want my best guess?,” When the others nodded, Lydia answered, “They want to figure out how Stiles did it, crossed the barrier that he wasn’t even supposed to see. I think they’re trying to get on his good side. _ That’s _ why Deaton let him borrow the books and whatever he wanted.”

Stiles looked down at his plate, suddenly feeling raw and scared. Did that mean that Derek and Laura had only been pretending to like him and get along with him? Had they been buttering him up just because they wanted an answer that Stiles didn’t have? 

“But…” Lydia continued after a beat, in a slower, more careful tone. “I don’t think that changes the heart of the matter.”

Scott looked at Stiles with concern before hesitantly asking, “And what’s that?”

“That these shifters. These people, aren’t as bad as they’ve been made out to be,” Lydia’s voice was low with consideration, “It’s like Danny said. Every story we’ve ever heard paints shifters and supernatural creatures as monsters. _ Especially _ shifters. Remember the story that Kate told us? Didn’t it seem too... _ slanted _ to anyone else?”

“It seemed way too fairy tale-esque,” Stiles murmured in agreement, “Too much ‘humans good, magical creatures bad’ vibe to it.”

Allison was quiet, worrying the inside of her bottom lip with her teeth as Lydia continued, “Exactly. Something about that story just didn’t seem right. It was too heavy handed. It seemed _ wrong _. And I think I figured out why.”

Everyone’s head shot up to stare at Lydia incredulously. “You did?” Scott asked curiously. 

Smiling primly, Lydia nodded, “The same shifter who wrote too much about what wood to use? He talked _ a lot _ about the circumstances under which he and his family migrated here. There _ was _ a war. Only it was _ against _ the shifters. Something happened which made humans turn against the shifters and creatures living with them, forcing the supernatural creatures to go into hiding.”

Everyone had forgotten about their dinner in favor of talking. As proven when Danny nearly put his elbow into his plate when he asked, “What’s this ‘something’? Was it anything like what Kate had said? Some princess was killed or died or whatever?” 

Lydia bit her bottom lip before shaking her head, “I couldn’t tell you. There was no mention of what _ exactly _ started the exodus. I can tell you when and how long the journey was on average but the reason that this war started between humans and shifters?” She shook her head hard enough to make her hair swish around her shoulders.

Tilting her head, Lydia glanced at Stiles and asked, “Is there anything mentioned in the book you got Stiles? About _ why _the war started? I don’t think there’s anything like that in the journal, right?.”

“There’s no mention of it in the journal,” He nodded, “But the book doesn’t have anything useful in it. It does have this introduction part but it’s like you said. They talked more about how hard the journey was and how they’d been ‘forced to leave their homeland’ because they were being hunted. But no details. It’s like no one knew the reason why the war started besides someone died and it pissed the humans enough to start killing the shifters indiscriminately.”

There was a moment of silence before Scott asked, “What else did the shifter talk about in your thing, Lydia? He must have talked about _ something _ other than wood and materials.”

Pressing her lips together in thought, Lydia stared off into the distance. “He talked a lot about inter-pack alliances and how difficult it was allocating territories for the different creatures and packs that kept coming in. Oh!” 

Her eyes flew open before locking with Stiles, “I can’t believe I forgot! I think that whatever happened? The Hales would know!”

“Why would _ they _ know?” Stiles asked in a puzzled tone. 

“Because _ they’re _ the ones responsible for all of this,” She waved a finger over her head, “This whole place? Getting it set up? It was Alpha Hale’s idea! There were a lot of packs working together to make this place inhabitable – laying down the ground work , setting up the wards and barriers, making sure that the right people know about the city and how to get to it. Alpha Hale, her husband, and her Emissary at the time were the ones who planned most of all of this out. If it wasn’t for the Hales, I doubt the exodus would have been a success. The shifter was pretty clear about that.”

Stiles got a crazy mental image of Alpha Hale leading packs of shifters and other mythological creatures through an ocean and choked on his laugh. And almost choked on his spit when Lydia said, “Stiles, you should ask Alpha Hale.”

Danny helpfully thumped him on the back. Stiles waved him away when his ribs began to hurt, “Look. Say you’re right that they want to be on my good side because they want answers. Bit do you _ really _ think they’re going to just _ tell me _ that if I ask? Do you expect me to just walk up to alpha Hale, ask her “Can you please tell me what happened to force you and your family to relocate here for centuries, please and thank you”? Hate to break it to you Lydia but I don’t think their interest would go _ that _ far.”

“That’s true. Alpha Hale might not tell you,” the slow smirk that pulled Lydia’s lips up made Stiles want to meep and run away, “But Derek might.”

His mouth fell open. “You want me to ask _ Derek _ ?” Stiles squeaked. “He’d never tell me! We don’t even know if _ he _knows the truth!”

“That’s true but there’s no harm in asking. And I think he would tell you,” Scott grinned at the others, enjoying teasing Stiles, “What was it that Stiles had said? That him and Derek had… what was it?”

“Formed a connection,” Allison quoted with a broad grin of her own, “I think those were Stiles’ _ exact _words.” 

Stiles groaned into his hands when Danny drawled, “Is that what we’re calling it now,” clearly enjoying the flustered look spreading over Stiles’ face. His friends were terrible people. He was totally putting in an application for new friends, ones who didn’t tease him. Teasing was _ his _ thing!

Huffing, Stiles crossed his arms, pushed his back into the chair. He rocked in place for a second. “You guys suck. I’m never telling you anything ever again,” Stiles complained.

Lydia toasted him with her glass, eyes sparkling with mirth. Danny continued to chuckle into his fist, “Who’ll you brag too then?”

“You tried that once remember?” Scott laughed through his words, “You barely lasted two days!”

Just for that, Stiles flicked a large piece of carrot at his best friend’s head. Who used his newly gained supernatural speed to grab the vegetable before it hit his forehead. Ugh! 

“I need new friends,” Stiles announced, “Good thing we’re in a city filled with lots of new people who could be my new friends.”

“Maybe Derek’ll help you in that regard.” Allison teased, pretending to pause like she’d just realized something. “Or wait! He might be interested in being more than friends,” Allison’s teasing jib earned her a piece of carrot as well, one she easily ducked with a laugh.

“You all _ suck _!” Stiles repeated.

* * *

Pleased, and a tiny bit nervous, Derek looked at his reflection one final time. Clean shirt, his best pair of jeans, the good boots, and his jacket. Good. He looked good. With one last nod at his reflection, Derek hurried downstairs, eager to meet Stiles after spending a whole three days without his company.

A few pack members gave him a confused look as he jogged past them, asking, “Where are you off too in such a hurry?” 

But Derek ignored them because Stiles was waiting for him downstairs and Derek didn’t want to keep him waiting. He dashed past an irate looking Laura and a smug Peter, both of them pausing in the middle of their hallway argument long enough to eye him curiously as he paused at the front door to pat his hair one last time before stepping out. Stiles stood leaning on the porch railing, eyes on the road leading up to the house, his back to Derek and the front door. But at the sound of the door opening, Stiles turned and grinned when their eyes met.

“Derek. Hey,” Stiles greeted him.

“Stiles,” Derek nodded, kicking himself mentally for not smiling back. But he still remembered the way William used to tease him as a child about how his fanged smile looked more murderous than friendly. He pushed the memory of his older brother away, resolving not to let it dampen his spirits. Instead he focused on Stiles. Derek took in the open jacket and the layered shirts underneath- a dark t-shirt underneath a bright plaid button down, dark fitted jeans, and boots. Derek felt his mouth go dry at the way the denim clung to Stiles’ thighs. 

It felt like it took all of his will power to force his eyes up, meeting Stiles’ hesitant smile, “Hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time.” 

Stiles looked good. Clean, comfortable, and smelt faintly like the eucalyptus scented powder that the cleaning ladies used in their washing. If he had to guess, Stiles had gotten his clothes washed. It had only been a day since he’d last seen Stiles and yet, it felt more like a week. Derek was at a loss to explain his happiness at seeing Stiles again. 

Clearing his throat, Derek closed the door behind him, “Of course not.” 

Stiles pushed himself away from the railing with one hand, standing to his full height as Derek came to stand in front of him. He made the simple motion look graceful. He also looked like he belonged here, standing on his home’s front porch looking nervous but happy. 

“How are you?” Derek asked. Once the conversation would get going, he’d stop being distracted by how good Stiles looked. Hopefully.

“Good. Great.” Stiles’ cheeks burned hot when he looked down. “I uuhhh...I wanted to apologize first. For leaving without saying goodbye. It just. It’s not that you guys weren’t great hosts but it’s nicer to stay with company you know? And we really didn’t want to burden you guys any more than we already had. I totally wanted to say good bye and we waited as long as we could but Laura said you might not be back all day so we just... left.”

The rambling explanation was endearing. And it also helped soothe away the hurt he’d felt when Boyd had told him their guests had left for their own lodgings. Knowing that Stiles had waited for him soothed the niggling pain away. 

“It’s alright. I understand,” Derek nodded and gestured towards the wooden bench along the wall. He and Isaac had built together. A perfect place to sit at night and watch the stars, “Do you want to sit?” 

Stiles stared at the bench and at the window above it. He quirked an eyebrow and smirked at the bench, which made Derek look as well. He caught sight of fluttering curtains, and heard Cora cursing as she ran away. Of course. He should have known someone would be trying to eavesdrop on him right now. And it had to be Cora of all people. She’d probably figured out the same thing Laura had days ago. Clearly it wouldn’t be safe to talk with Stiles here. Derek could imagine his family and pack hovering near the window and front door, eagerly waiting on their every word. From the amused twitch of Stiles’ lips, it appeared Stiles had reached a similar conclusion. 

“Actually,” Stiles began, looking back at Derek, “how about we take a walk?” He pointed at the long pathway that led up to the Hale house. “It’s kind of private. What I want to talk to you about. Ugh, crap! I went about that the wrong way.” 

If Derek still had eyebrows, they would have gone up and stayed up in amusement thanks to the way Stiles facepalmed and ran a hand through his hair, “How about you try again?”

Stiles took a deep breath, nodded, and said, “I meant to say that, I’d like to talk to you about something,” His eyes met Derek’s briefly before flitting back to the window, “In private where no one else can overhear us.”

That was a bit of a tall order given that there were supernatural creatures _ everywhere _ in the city but. “I think I can find us a place.” Derek answered, throwing Cora a stern glare at the window that had her scurrying away again. Honestly. She was the worst at being sneaky. 

“This way.” He stepped down the porch. 

Stiles followed immediately, shoulder brushing against Derek as he came to stand next to him. “Lead the way.” 

The small contact sent a flood of warmth rushing through him. Derek didn’t trust his voice to not shake as a result. They walked down the pathway lined with neatly trimmed hedges. They’d been walking for a few minutes before Derek pointed at the door coming on Stiles’ left. It was covered under an arch of drooping white flowers, installed neatly in between the hedge, “Through there.”

Stiles followed, grabbing the faded green handle and pushing the door open. It opened smoothly, revealing the private garden where his mother hosted her bi-annual Council meetings. There were flowers blooming on the edges of the garden, filling the air with a sweet, heady scent. The grass however, looked like it could use a trim. Derek made a mental note as he headed towards the treeline that started at the far end of the garden.

“This is really pretty,” Stiles said quietly, “Very Secret Garden.”

Derek snorted, “That’s actually where my mom got the idea from.”

Laughing and shaking his head, Stiles wound up bumping shoulders with Derek. The werewolf cleared his throat and pointed at the trees in front of them, “There’s a path there we’re going to get on. It leads to a gazebo. It should be safe to talk there.”

Stiles immediately began to search for the path, pointing at a small gap between the trees in front of them. “Is that it?” Derek nodded, leading the way because the ‘road’ up to the gazebo was just barely wide enough for one person. 

You couldn’t even call it a road because the ground was still green rather than a worn down brown. But the path’s edges were lined with small wild flowers, their sweet scent hovering in the air. Insects buzzed and flew around lazily. Conversely the bird calls were few but it was easy to make them flying to and fro as they ate the fruit hanging off the boughs. Derek carefully tried to sneak a look at the human, wondering if he was busy examining their surroundings like before. He had anticipated questions to fly at him, much as they had during the tour. But Stiles had been silent. 

As it turned out, Stiles was still following him, frowning hard at the ground as they walked. Concern filled Derek immediately. He began to wonder what it was that Stiles wanted to talk about. What could it be that he was worried about someone overhearing them? He _ had _ said it was something private. What could it be? Derek ignored the obvious answer, trying to think of more realistic options. He had sadly not thought of many options by the time they’d made it to the small gazebo. 

The small pavilion was made of pale wood, with a bench running around the inside. It was octagonal in shape, with a tall railing around the edges. There were small ‘lights’ around the top edge. Stiles eyed them curiously from the distance, “What are those?” He asked, pointing at one of them.

“Lights. Fae lights. They turn on themselves at night if someone is nearby.” 

Stiles perked up almost immediately, “Fae lights? Does your house have fae lights too? And our cottage? How do they work?”

“Uh, yes,” Derek nodded in confusion, “They’re just charmed balls of light made by faeries. It’s nothing special.”

“And how do they work? The lights inside the houses.”

“They begin to glow as soon as it gets dark.”

“That,” Stiles said, “is the _ best _practical magic use I’ve ever seen. Imagine how much you could save on the electricity bill if you could install fae lights in your home!”

They were standing in front of the gazebo now and Derek gestured at the entrance with a sweep of his hand, “After you.” 

Stiles hesitated a second before stepping in. He made a slow circle around the floor before coming to sit down on the right side of the entrance, watching Derek make sure they hadn’t been followed. When he listened, all Derek heard were the sounds of nature. Birds, insects, fae, nymphs; the first two were close to them, the other two were also close but they typically stayed away from the gazebo. When he was satisfied, Derek went to sit down next to Stiles. As soon as he was settled, Stiles began to jiggle his knee nervously. 

“What did you want to talk about?” Derek asked, worry growing as Stiles raised his thumb up to his lips, biting down on the nail. The man was hesitating with whatever he wanted to ask. Derek frowned when he caught the scent of blood. Stiles hissed and sucked his thumb. Derek wished he had the courage to reach out and stop Stiles from further hurting himself.

“Stiles?” Derek tried again, waiting for Stiles to meet his eyes before saying, in a gentle voice, “What did you want to talk about? Whatever it is, you can tell me.” 

He hoped that he had inspired that level of trust in Stiles. He didn’t want to sound like he was overreaching or reading too much into things, but Derek had thought that they had formed a bond. That they were friends or on the road to being friends at least. Derek wanted Stiles to trust him with whatever it was that was worrying him. Stiles went through a series of small nervous actions. He rubbed his fingers against his palms before linking them together. Sucked his lips in. Bit on them worriedly before exhaling. He tried to crack his knuckles again but like the last five times, no pops sounded. 

“It’s... It’s a sensitive topic.” Stiles began hesitantly, still refusing to meet Derek’s worried gaze. “I’m not sure how to talk about it. Or how you’ll take it.” 

Blinking, Derek wondered what kind of sensitive topic Stile would wanted to talk about. Curiosity and worry warred briefly before concern for Stiles superseded both emotions. Derek forced himself to smile and continued in the same gentle voice as before. “I thought you said you were the kind of person to just barge into a conversation, social norms and all be damned.” 

Stiles snorted at the memory, smiling at his knees before relaxing minutely. Derek took courage from it and reached out to grasp Stiles’ wrist, like he had the day before during lunch. Only his grip was far gentler, intending to comfort Stiles more than hold him in place. He could hear Stiles’ already nervous heart speed up more. Slowly, Derek looked up to meet Stiles’ startled eyes. “Just tell me,” He said quietly. “Don’t worry about how you should say. Let it out, however you want.”

Stiles’ laugh was shaky and weak. He’d been smelling of apprehension from the get go, but the scent was _ overpowering _now. He placed a hand on top of Derek’s before saying, “You might regret saying that. But okay…” 

He took a deep, rattled breath, chest and rising falling dramatically while Derek’s thumb stroking Stiles’ racing pulse. Stiles licked his lips once last time before looking up and meeting Derek’s gaze dead on, “Can you tell me why shifters and humans went to war?” 

Derek’s thumb paused mid-stroke at the question, a deep cold sinking into his veins. Of all the things he had expected Stiles to ask about, this was the very last topic. Derek hadn’t even _ considered _ it important enough. 

Stiles’ desperate gaze turned more so when he saw Derek’s distress. It made him stumble over his own words as he hurriedly explained, “I know that something happened to spark the war but no one talks about _ what _ happened to start it. I think someone tore those pages out of Fenris’ journal to make sure that no one knew about the other side of the story. _ Your _ side of the story. And from the documents that Lydia has read, it’s clear that whatever happened, you guys were on the bad side of the war. _ You _were the ones who were hunted and had to go into hiding.

“Whatever happened...” Stiles trailed off, licked his dry lips before finishing in a less hurried tone that was no less heavy with desperation, “it must have been pretty bad. And I need to know what it was.”

“Pretty bad,” the sound that crossed Derek’s lips was a mockery of a laugh, “That’s one way of putting it.” He muttered, taking his hand back before he leaned back in his seat. The railing dug into his spine. The inconvenience helped center him, kept him focused as the memories flashed through his mind. He saw flash of regret in Stiles’ eyes, his hand twitching before it inched forward over polished wood. 

Derek wondered if contact would be made. If Stiles would dare to reach across and touch him. However his hand stopped half way, curled into a fist, and returned in Stiles’ lap. He turned his eyes away, staring at the trees in front of him and looking beyond them. Silence filled the space between them, oppressive and heavy. Around them, the forest was alive and cheerful. If he had known Stiles wanted to talk about _ this _ particular topic, Derek would be opted to go up to his room instead of out here in the middle of the forest where he sometimes swore he could see _her_ ghost flitting through the trees. Something that was impossible because of so many reasons.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Stiles’ voice was no higher than a whisper when he spoke up. It was a sharp contrast to the image he held of Stiles. Derek hadn’t thought Stiles possible of looking and sounding so... small. It made him close his eyes and sigh. 

“I understand if you don’t… don’t want to tell me,” He continued.

Derek glanced away from Stiles, not realized that he’d turned to look at him. He watched the birds bounce over leaves and fruit, singing sweetly to a group of faeries who had shown up to play. He watched one of the birds steal one of the faeries flower hats, hopping to a higher branch as the tiny creature yelped in surprise. It had been too long since anyone had asked him his side of the story. Not that the lack of telling had made him forget any of the details. No. He remembered everything in great and full detail. There was no forgetting what had happened. 

But very few people knew the truth. His family for one, the Council members for another. Their first emissary knew, but he was long dead. His descendants probably knew the truth which meant that Deaton and Marin knew. They both had hinted at it enough time without ever asking for details. While a select few knew the truth, everyone else resorted to speculation. While they had known a war might break out against them soon, no one had known what had sparked it. They’d questioned the Council about it several times but had gotten so answers. All because his mother had convinced the others to stay silence in order to keep Derek safe. 

However it had turned into common knowledge that it had something to do with the Hale family. And when they added in his relationship with _her_? And _her_ death? A lot of suspicions fell on his head. His family had kept the worst of the rumors and gossip away from him, firmly telling everyone and anyone to back off. Without any concrete evidence, the rumors and speculations eventually quietened down. But they never died. The community has respected their wishes but the lack of information from Derek himself left a lot of gaps which people had wound up filling on their own, as Derek realized later.

“It’s… a long story,” Derek began haltingly, breaking the pregnant silence that had fallen between them. He realized at some point Stiles had lowered his gaze to stare at his own lap. His head shot up at Derek’s words, a cautious hope in his eyes. Derek felt something inside him twist in worry, causing his voice to grow hoarse when he said, “I don’t even know where to begin.”

One of the fae peeked around an apple, laughed at the couple hiding behind it before tweaking their wings and flying off higher into the tree. Their happy giggles were the under note to Stiles’ quiet reply, “The beginning’s a good place.” 

Stiles’ weak joke made Derek crack a weak smile of his own. The beginning, huh. With a long, resigned sigh, Derek began his tale. 

“A really long time ago, we used to serve King Briaine. By ‘we’, I mean werewolves. Not that we were called that. We were known as ‘_ faoladh _ ’ or ‘ _ conroicht _’.” 

Stiles nodded in understanding, murmuring, “I’ve read references of that.”

“But that’s not important.” Derek continued, “A lot of us used to serve Briaine, especially during the wars. He was… maybe not the kindest person but he was fair. Just. He always believed that it didn’t matter where you came from or if you were human or not. What mattered to him were a person’s deeds and actions. He always said that was the true measure of any person’s character, human or otherwise.”

One of the fae complained and yelled at the breeze swaying through the leaves, many of the tiny, glowing creatures following the cool wind as it traveled away. Derek paused to watch them fly away.

“Okay,” Stiles nodded slowly, gesturing for Derek to continue, “I’m with you so far. You all used to serve an old king who didn’t care if people were human or otherwise. What happened next?”

Derek’s gaze went distant, seeing her ghost smiling at him through his memories, “Briaine had a daughter, Paige. She was his only child actually. Dark hair, beauty mark under her left eye. She was…” Derek shook his head, smiling faintly as he searched for the right word to describe her. All these years and he still hadn’t found it. “Breath-taking.” 

That was a far more accurate word than any if you considered their first meeting. Derek’s smile grew at the memory, remembering the ugly look she’d given him before neatly knocking him down a few pegs in front of his fellow knights. Not to mention the shove she’d given him, causing him to _ actually _fall back against his friend.

“You were…” Stiles’ cut himself off mid-way. 

Pulled out of the memory Derek looked up at the man. There were many emotions in Stiles’ brown eyes, but they moved too fast for him to read. Derek caught sadness, sympathy, understanding. “You loved her. Didn’t you?” Stiles finished.

Was he still so easy to read? Derek’s smile remained wane as he nodded. “I did. Our first meeting was… horrible,” What an understatement. Derek’s wane smile grew, “I insulted her. I didn’t know who she was. And she didn’t hesitate to insult me in return. Even shoved me for being a ‘complete and utter fool of a knight’.” 

Exhaling a short laugh, the werewolf leaned back in his seat, staring up at the gazebo ceiling. “She was different from everyone else I had known. Most humans treated us with respect but you could tell they were wary of us. They never forgot who were were. _ What _ we were. I was no different. I might have been a knight serving my king, but I would always be known as a _ conroicht _ first. But that never mattered to her. She saw me not as a knight, or a _ conroicht _ serving her father. I was just Derek.”

It was still so easy to remember her because he saw her ghost in so many things around him, even now. She’d walk every time Derek saw long, dark, wavy hair bouncing and gleaming in the sunlight. She’d smile at him every time he’d see a particular shade of blue, remembering how she’d told him how much she loved that color. She’d groan at him whenever he’d say he’d rather spend his day reading instead of going to the market. She still haunted him. His first love and his greatest regret. 

Derek swallowed around the lump in his throat, trying not to let the memories overwhelm him. It was impossible not to be swept away. “We fell in love. Hard and fast. We didn’t think beyond our happiness. And we certainly did not think of Paige’s fiancé.”

“Fiancé?” Stiles sat up in his seat, eyes flying open in surprise. He turned his body sideways, knees bumping against Derek’s. “She had a _ fiancé _?” 

Derek nodded, “He was from a well-known noble family. Alexander Argat. His father was one of Briaine’s most trusted advisers. They said he was in high favor with the king. But it was also well known that the Argat lusted after power. His family were originally businessmen and had bought their titles and place at court. One of Argat’s greatest desire was to somehow get the crown. Preferably by marrying his son Alexander with the king’s only daughter. At the time, Paige had been but a child and the king had readily agreed to the match but…” Derek shrugged one shoulder, raising it stiffly up to his ear before dropping it, “When Paige and I fell in love…We spoiled his plans. That’s not something he took kindly to.”

Rubbing his hands together, Derek clasped the sweaty palms against each other before continuing. Derek focused on Stiles’ low breathing, listening to his sharp inhales and slower exhales before continuing, “What happened next was… fairly simple, in hindsight. Stupidly simple even. Paige and I were too caught up in our love to notice how deeply we had angered the Argat family. How could we when we were swept up in our love?

The Argats were a dangerous family to anger. This was a family who frequently spoke against _ faoladh _ and other creatures’ existence. They firmly believed all _ faoladh _ were animals, and should be treated as such. Argat hated the fact that Briaine had given several prominent _ faoladh _ families positions at court. That he allowed them to be knights in his army. So you can imagine how he felt when he found out that Paige wanted to break off her engagement with Alexander because she wanted to marry me, a dirty _ faoladh _.”

He felt a hand slip around his wrist, offering a comforting squeeze. Derek clenched his jaw, feeling his throat close up with his next words, “We had hoped to sway Briaine to our side. To convince him of our love. Paige was so sure her father would believe her…” 

The words caught in his throat, the old ache of the wound still throbbing deep in him. It had lessened over time, but retelling of the story was like scratching over scabbed over wounds, “Being the only child, Paige was well loved by Briaine. And she hoped to sway him to our side, and gain his permission for our marriage. Somehow, Argat heard of this. And plotted against us.”

He could hear the uptick in Stiles’ heartbeat, followed closely by a sharp intake of air. Stiles seemed to have finally understood that this story wasn’t one with a happy ending. “What happened?” He asked breathlessly.

Derek continued to look away, not wanting to see the judgement he knew would be present in Stiles’ face, “I can only guess how Argat felt when he found out the truth. Angry, offended, insulted. Not only did Paige want to break off her engagement with Alexander but to choose a _ faoladh _? I suppose that was too big of an insult for Argat to bear. So he sought his revenge. Against me and others like me. They sent Paige a note, with my name on it, telling her to go to a grove where we often met. Not suspecting any foul play, Paige left as soon as the sun went down. I came to her rooms shortly she had left. While I waited for her to return, I found the note. Realizing it was a trap and without telling anyone, I hurried to the grove. But I was too late.”

His voice had slowly grown more and more flat, a monotone through which he narrated the events. Inside his mind he was reliving that terrible night all over again. Derek remembered how he’d raced through the woods, how cold the air had seemed. How closed off his throat had felt as he’d ran. He’d prayed so hard as he’d ran, ‘_Please let her be safe. Just let her be safe.’ _ There was no forgetting the terror he’d felt when he’d heard her scream ring through the night air. He raised a hand to his throat, remembering how he’d shouted her name back. It had felt like he’d nearly torn his vocal chords. Derek remembered bursting through the trees, remembered how _sharp _the smell of jasmine had been in the air, remembered freezing when he’d caught sight of a monstrous dark figure looming over Paige’s body. The sickly sweet smell of jasmine had given way to the choking hot smell of Paige’s blood. Derek remembered the terrible ache in his chest when he’d seen the slash marks on her arms and the bite mark on her torso where the creature had ripped her gown. 

“A rogue alpha had found Paige and attacked her. Bit her. I tried to capture the other werewolf but it managed to escape. I tried to fight it but it just… ran away. But it didn’t matter. It was too late to save her,” He closed his eyes, overwhelmed by the memories. His arms still remembered how heavy she had felt in his arms, the wispy material of her dress made heavy with blood, her dark hair clinging to her pale cheeks as she tried to smile up at him.

“Isaac might have told you this but there’s a risk involved when you’re bitten. There’s a chance you might not turn. That you might reject the bite. And Paige...” Derek closed his eyes, swallowing harshly. “She was in so much pain. She kept crying, begged me to end her pain.” Stiles’ grip on his wrist was like a vice by this point. It was the only thing keeping Derek connected to the present when he took a deep breath and whispered, “So I did.”

It appeared as though the wind itself had been struck dumb by his words. The soft breeze had halted, leaving Derek all too aware of the silence stretching between them. But he dared not look to Stiles and see his reaction. What kind of a face was he making? Would he feel repulsed knowing the truth? Call him a murderer? But Stiles remained quiet, breathing shallowly before shifting in his seat, causing the bench to creak.

When Derek realized Stiles wasn’t going to say anything, he continued in the same lifeless tone, “The guards found me in the grove, bloodied and shifted, holding Paige in my arms. One look at her wounds and they declared me as the killer. I was taken to the castle dungeons and kept there until Briaine passed judgement.”

“_What _?” Stiles interrupted with an angry hiss, “How could they do that? Didn’t you tell them what happened? Didn’t they know that only an alpha’s bite could cause the change?”

His lips twisted in an ugly and angry sneer, “They considered it evidence enough that I had been found at the scene of the crime with bloodied hands. It didn’t matter if I was an alpha or an omega. I was a rabid animal who had turned on his lover. I found out much later that Argat had been slowly poisoning Briaine against us - all shifters and magical creatures. We always knew that the man was planning something against his. He’d been looking for an excuse to start a fight against us. To start a crusade where he’d purge us from the world. And I had unwittingly became a pawn in his greater plan. By setting me up as Paige’s murderer, Argat turned the Briaine against us _ and _ got a legitimate reason to ‘cleanse’ the world of us ‘abominations’.” Derek spat the words out, lips curling in disgust.

It was after my pack rescued me from the castle dungeons that I found out the truth. Argat’s plan was to make Paige’s death look like a werewolf attack. No one knows where the rogue werewolf came from, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Argat had been responsible for that as well. Argat never thought I’d find the note and hurry to warn Paige. It was an added bonus to him that I stumbled onto the scene that I had. Argat managed to convince Briaine that I had planned this all along. That all shifters were evil and that we should be eliminated.”

Finally, Derek looked at Stiles. Stricken, Stiles watched him raise a clawed hand up, “This was Argat’s idea. He had been working on a curse that would force a werewolf or any other magical creature capable of taking human shape to show their ‘real’ form. It was a way to force magical creatures to reveal themselves. And once they did, they would be killed.”

“Wait, wait.” Stiles waved his hands before making a time-out gesture, “It takes _ a lot _ of power to put a curse on someone. A _ lot_! How the hell did this Argat guy manage that? Was he really talented at magic or something?”

Derek smiled weakly, impressed and pleased at how quickly Stiles’ mind worked, “Witches. Covens actually. There were four big covens in the land at the time and Argat or Briaine convinced them to work with them. There was one coven who were pretty outspoken against magical creatures in general, so they were more than happy to help. But the others…” Derek shook his head, fangs showing as he sneered. “They didn’t want to help. Not that it mattered in the end. Argat used the first coven to curse any and all shifters and magical folk he could find, including me. He forced the witches to continue, draining them completely of their powers until the entire coven was death. Argat gave the other three groups a choice: to join him in his cause or to die.”

Stiles’ face turned pale. It was any magic user’s worst nightmare to be utterly drained of their powers. It was one of the very first lessons anyone was taught – don’t push your magic too hard, because if you did, you stood the chance of losing it forever. 

“My parents had long been suspicious of Argat and his motives. They had been preparing to leave for a safer place. Made plans for the travel and the journey. My actions just… pushed up the timeline.” Derek could barely remember the start of the journey. He had vague memories of being stuffed in the back of a wagon with Cora and Isaac, staring up at the thick cloth ceiling while listening to the pair whisper to each other. Most of the journey was a blur. “Our journey here was... We always had to be on the lookout for Argat soldiers or Briaine’s special guard who called had been created to hunt all supernaturals down. Despite our best efforts to leave the country undetected, we were still…”

Derek pressed his lips together, unable to form the words. He was back in the wagon, waking up with the sick feeling of dread settling into the bottom of his stomach as he asked for his father and Emily in a rare moment of lucidity. Isaac and Cora had exchanged a worried look before calling for Talia. 

Derek swallowed as he brought himself back in the present, parroting his mother’s words back to Stiles. “I lost my father, oldest brother, and youngest sister. My uncle’s wife and children were killed when their house was set on fire. Uncle Peter was… devastated when we got the news. My father and brother were caught trying to leave court and were beheaded along the rest of the _ faoladh _nobility. Emily had gone to the nearest village to buy some supplies but had gotten caught. The soldiers killed her in the streets, in broad daylight."

He recalled Cora’s harsh whispers, telling him of everything he’s missed, “Uncle Peter still won’t talk to anyone. He’s in shock just like you.”

Derek felt bile rise up his throat. “I lost many friends on the journey here. Too many of them…” They had lost so many people... So many pack members and friends. Guilt weighed on his chest when Derek realized he couldn’t remember all their names. The cool breeze tickled the back of his neck, raising goose bumps in its wake. His limbs felt heavy and disconnected, like he was a leaden puppet.

“You wanted to know what happened to make us come here.” Derek said quietly. “_That’s _ what happened. That’s what started the damn war.”

* * *

Stiles spent the rest of the day in a haze. He had walked away from the Hale manor with a heavy heart and pounding head, struggling to process Derek’s story. Without paying attention to his surroundings, Stiles found himself wandering around the city before finally ending up at the large park in front of the town hall. The same park Derek and he shared lunch only a few days ago.

_ ‘Had it only been a few days?’ _ Stiles wondered, rubbing his fingers into his temples. It felt like it had been longer. Perhaps it was a side effect of the spell that hung over the city. Time stretched and stuff and made you feel like a day was a week.

Sitting down on the stone bench, Stiles put his arms up on the cool stone and sighed deeply. His eyes stared listlessly in front of him. There were several couples walking down the path on their evening walk. A pair of mothers sat on a nearby bench, gossiping while their kids played on the nearby jungle gym. There was a group of nymphs gathered around the treeline. 

He stared at the group of ten. Many of them had dark skin and mossy hair, a strange growth covering the top half of their faces. When a faint breeze swept through the trees, he saw a faint glimmer hovering at their backs. He couldn’t make out what their clothes were made out of but they looked like leafy vines twisted together into a toga-like dress. Stiles assumed they were tree spirits. The tree spirits were gathered around a pair of tanned blondes. Their raiment was similar in style to the tree spirits, but was made of a roughly hewn white cloth. They were pointing up into the trees, asking something that made all the tree spirits talk at the same time. Intrigued Stiles leaned forward, elbows on his thighs. After a fairly lengthy talk, the blondes gestured for the tree spirits to step back. Stiles nearly fell out of his seat, and into the path of a passing werewolf, when the blonde’s girls hair turned to fire. The sightless tree sprites spoke into the trees, voice loud enough for their echo to reach Stiles’ ears. Their voices were heavy with command, telling someone to come out. 

It took a few minutes and eventually, a bird with dazzling flame colored plumage flew out of the trees. His eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“Huh,” A feminine voice said from behind. Stiles turned his head to look at Erica, who was leaning on the back of the bench next to him. Boyd stood stoically next to her, hands deep in his jacket pockets, “So that’s where Arthur was.”

“Arthur?” Stiles asked.

Erica walked around and sat down next to him with a tiny plop. “Yeah. He’s Jim’s pet. You know Jim right? The bookshop owner? Arthur’s got a bad habit of unlocking his cage and flying off.”

Stiles watched the phoenix enjoy the attention it was getting from the fire spirits before asking, “Doesn’t anyone worry that Arthur might fly out of the valley?”

The blonde shook her head. “Arthur knows better. Every person with wings knows better than to push their luck like that. Arthur just needs to spread his wings every now and then. He hates being stuck in that cage for a long time. Plus, I think he likes the treats those fire girls give him whenever they come to catch him.”

Nodding weakly, Stiles gave the group one last look before glancing back over the park. As amazing as that sight had been, Stiles couldn’t ignore the heaviness in his heart. It was rare occasion where Stiles regretting giving into his curiosity. 

“Derek told you everything, didn’t he?” Boyd asked bluntly.

Twitching guiltily, Stiles asked, "How did you-"

"That's our secret," Boyd smirked 

The good humor dropped out of Erica's eyes when she asked, “What are you going to do now that you know.”

With a helpless shrug, Stiles answered, “I don’t know. I’m still trying to just... process. It was a pretty heavy story.”

“Heavy or not, we need to know whether or not you’re going to use it against Derek,” Erica pressed on, dark eyes sharp as a laser. 

Stiles turned to face her, surprise flooding him, “Why would I use it against him? I’ve got no reason to do that.”

“Then why are you so shocked?” Boyd asked. 

“Because it was a damn tragedy what happened!” Stiles answered immediately and with great dismay, “I never thought that the truth would be like that. I’d thought it’d be something more political but this was just...” His voice dropped, “Unfair. It was so _ unfair _ ! All Paige and Derek did was fall in love and then some speciest jackass decided that wasn’t fine by him and did _ all that! _”

“Derek could be lying for all you know. To gain your sympathy.” Erica pointed out, crossing her arms over her chest. “Have you considered that?”

He hadn’t. Stiles frowned because that hadn’t even been a possibility. Then he recalled Lydia’s words, about the Hales wanting something from him. “Why would he do that?” He asked in return, a tiny seed of doubt worming its way into his head. 

Erica shrugged faintly, “Maybe he wants something from you. Maybe he wants you to trust him so that you’ll see his attack coming. Maybe we _ are _ the monsters you’ve been told about.”

She was laying it on thick. Stiles half smiled, “Aren’t you both human?”

With a mighty eye roll, Erica said, “Fine Mr.Technicalities. Maybe _ Derek _ and the others are the monsters you’ve read all the stories about. Happy?”

He had to snort at her sarcastic tone. But his smile quickly faded away. He watched a centaur heft a young child on her shoulders, holding still as the child tried to grab the Frisbee that had gotten stuck in the tree. 

“I don’t think they are,” Stiles replied after a length pause, slowly looking up to meet her eyes, “I don’t believe they’re monsters. They’re just like any other person I know. Having horns or being able to change into another form isn't inherently good _or _bad. It just... is. There's plenty of human monsters out there, some of them without a drop of magic in them.”

Something passed through Erica’s eyes. Perhaps respect. It was there and gone before Stiles could pinpoint it. “So you don’t think Derek might be trying to use you?” Boyd asked.

Stiles shrugged and leaned back, “I can’t say. I know that the way I got in probably has some people curious. But I really don’t think Derek told me his story because he wanted my pity. I asked him to tell me, and he could have said no. But he didn’t.”

“Then why do you think he told you?” Erica asked.

That was the real question, wasn’t it? Stiles shrugged once again, heavier than before. Erica and Boyd exchanged a look. Whatever silence conversation they were having made Stiles’ ache with curiosity. 

“Did I pass whatever test you made me go through?” Stiles quipped a few seconds later.

Boyd snorted while Erica grinned, Cheshire cat wide. She patted his cheek, the tips of her nails scratching against his skin as she stood up. “See you around Stiles. Don’t stay out too long, you’ll miss dinner.”

Dinner? His stomach growled almost immediately. The sound was followed by a painful cramp which reminded Stiles he hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. He’d been so out of it after his talk with Derek, he’d completely missed lunch. “What a day.” Stiles sighed to himself, getting up on his feet to begin the long trek back to the cabin. 

On the way back, Stiles was surprised to note the heavy feeling from before had disappeared. Sure he still felt upset whenever he thought about the unfair treatment Derek had gone through, but he also began to think beyond that. Stiles wondered when Derek had been cursed. He wondered why the king had just accepted Derek to be the culprit without ordering any kind of investigation. What kind of a curse was this that it could force a magical creature’s true form to be revealed? 

But mostly, his thoughts lingered on Argat. Not only did the name sound vaguely familiar, but the man’s actions struck Stiles as vile. While Stiles understood the nobleman’s motives, he still couldn’t quite wrap his head around the scale of his hatred towards magical creatures. How could a man hate another species so much that he would manipulate and abuse other magic users, all in an effort to commit genocide against magical creatures? What kind of twisted mind did you have to have to plot the murder of an innocent young girl? All because she’d falling in love with someone who wasn’t human.

Stiles shook his head in bewilderment. Nope, he really didn’t get it.

As he walked up the short path to the cabin door, Stiles decided on the following. 

He would give Derek some time before approaching him again. Stiles would ask him a few more questions for clarification, ask if he knew what the journal’s missing pages might be about, and reassure the werewolf that Stiles did not think of him any differently. 

Furthermore, he would talk with Lydia and ask her to find all the information she could about this war. In the same vein, he was going to go talk with Deaton. Stiles had a gut feeling that the healer might know something as well, given his close connections with the Hales.

A plan of action formulated, Stiles opened the front door with a lighter heart, “Honey, I’m home!” He shouted, shucking his jacket off before hanging it up on the nearby hook.

“Kitchen!” Danny’s voice called back. 

His stomach rumbled again, eager to be filled. Stiles couldn’t help but rub his hands in delight, wondering what food had been left for them today. _ ‘Note, ask Derek or alpha Hale who keeps making this food for us and thank them,’ _ Stiles added another post it to his mental desk.

He could hear his friends talking in the kitchen. It sounded like quite the debate from the sound of it. Stiles caught the tail end of what Scott was saying as he walked in.

“Which makes no sense at all!” Scott finished with an annoyed gesture. He was sitting at the table with Lydia and Allison. While Allison looked conflicted, Lydia was looking flat out appalled.

“What doesn’t make sense?” He asked, walking over to Danny who was manning the stove. There was a giant pot on the stove, filled to the brim with a delicious smelling stew. Stiles took an appreciative sniff, drool gathering in his mouth. “Tell me there’s bread to go with it?”

Danny chuckled and gestured at the stove. “In there warming up. Can you grab some bowls out of the cupboard? That one over there.” He pointed the cupboard out.

Scott grabbed his shirt as he walked by. His eyes flashed gold and Stiles thought he might have seen Scott’s fangs peeking out past his lips. “Dude! Do you think Gerard and Kate’ve been treating me different since I got here? Like they hate me for being a werewolf?”

He gently but firmly grabbed Scott’s wrist. “First off, you need to calm down. Your wolfy side is showing,” Scott’s glare broke in an instant, eyes closing as he went through one of the breathing exercises Isaac had taught him to lower his heartbeat. “Second of all, what?” He looked at Allison and Lydia.

Lydia pointed at the couple. “They had lunch with Allison’s family today and it was weird, apparently.”

“What exactly was weird?” Stiles asked as he tried to tug himself free. Damn werewolf strength. 

Scott opened his eyes. They were their usual dark brown color and they were filled with confused hurt. “The way they treated me. They’ve always been alright but tonight they acted..._ weird _!”

“Ketchup on toast weird or ‘I’m not saying its aliens but it's aliens’ guy weird?” Stiles asked.

“Weird like when you’re watching a horror movie and the camera moves back so you can see one character is moving back and you _ know _ something bad is about to happen.”

His eyes flew open in surprise. That was pretty _ damn _weird, yeah. Scott had always had a good relationship with Allison’s family. It wasn’t the greatest but they had seemed happy enough with Scott. Stiles’ wide eyes flew to Allison, wordlessly asking for details. 

She sighed and nodded, “They _ were _ acting weird. I can’t put my finger on it. But I don’t think they were treating Scott any different. I _ think _ its stress. Grandpa and Kate’ve been trying to figure out how we’re going to get back and it’s been pretty hard on them. They’re not sure if we’ve got enough rations and water to make the trip back. And I heard dad say grandpa’s meeting with Alpha Hale didn’t go the way he wanted.”

Stiles pointed at her, continuing his attempts to free himself. “See! That’s a good explanation! Kate was stressed and pissed off and took it out on you because she knows you’re never gonna say a word against her!”

“You think so?” Scott asked, lower lip jutting out in a pout. “I kept thinking that… the way they were talking to me was just too weird. Like they were in one some joke I wasn’t. I kept expecting someone to jump out of the closet yelling, ‘You just got punk’d!’.”

“That’s got to be it,” Stiles gave up trying to escape Scott’s clutches, leaning forward to hug and pat his best friend’s head. “Don’t worry your head about it, buddy. Besides! how can anyone hate you? I mean, sure you’ve broken three doors and your bed since you became a shifter...”

“”How the hell do you know _ that _?” Danny asked suspiciously from the stove.

Lydia snorted wryly as Allison and Scott both blushed, “How the hell did you _ not _ know that? They were pretty loud last night.” 

Danny shook his head. “I’ve been sleeping with earplugs.” Lydia made an understanding face as she handed a stack of plates and bowls to Stiles. Together they began to set the table while Danny plated the food up.

Clearing his throat, Stiles continued, “My point, as I was trying to make earlier, is that you might not be the world’s best shifter but you’re a pretty good son-in-law, a great husband, and a pretty decent better almost brother. So cheer up! It was probably just a case of a bad mood!”

Allison reached across to grab Scott’s hand. She gave it a warm squeeze with both of her hands. “Stiles is right. You shouldn’t let this get to you. Everyone else treated you just the same! Aunt Kate pretty much talked to you all the way through lunch, didn’t she? She wouldn’t do that with someone she didn’t like.”

“That’s true, I guess,” Scott conceded with a smile.

But Stiles couldn’t stop himself from making a sour face. The woman’s name brought back the memory of her story. Stiles frowned when he realized her story had been the complete opposite of Derek’s. It led to an obvious question: Who was telling the truth – Derek or Kate? Instinct told him it had to be Derek. Kate set off so many of his warning bells that his head felt like fucking Notre Dame during Sunday prayers. However from a more logical perspective, he was pitting two people’s words against each other. If he was to overlook his emotions and gut feelings, Stiles couldn’t be sure who was telling the truth.

“Stiles?” Lydia said. He turned around to face her, distractedly humming. She was holding out two bowls filled with stew, “Pass these on.” Obediently, he passed the bowls on to Scott and Allison. Next he took the bread from Danny and put it down on the table before accepting his stew from Lydia and taking a seat.

He stared contemplatively at his stew, stirring it around slowly. The others talked around him - Allison asking Lydia if she’d read anything interesting today while Danny asked Scott about his training with Isaac. Stiles however, kept thinking about his dilemma. If only there was some other verified, trusted source that knew the truth. He couldn’t well ask anyone from the Hale family or anyone associated to them. There was no point asking any human either. 

_ ‘Maybe that’s what the missing pages were about,’ _ Stiles thought to himself, blowing on a hot spoonful, ‘ _ Even if they talked about what happened, it’d still be Fenris talking about the magical side of the story. Still couldn’t believe it ‘cuz its still one person’s word against another.’ _

But he could be wrong. He was just making wild guesses about what the torn pages could be about. And he wasn’t sure if alpha Hale had ever gotten to trust Fenris enough to let him know the truth. Stiles grimly chewed on a soft piece of bread. Essentially, he was stuck. 

However given how his gut feeling was rarely wrong, Stiles was leaning towards not trusting Kate and taking Derek up on his word. But there was a first time for everything, right? Dammit! He wished he could get his head out of this sucky loop of doubt.

“By the way,” Lydia’s voice broke into his thoughts. She’d spoken in louder than usual tone, making herself heard over the other conversation happening at the table. Stiles gave her a politely interested look, fingers dipping a large crust of bread into his bowl. She was tearing chunks of bread off and dropping them into her stew. “Where were you today? Did you have lunch with Derek again?”

Stiles shook his head, popping the soaked piece of bread into his mouth before replying. “Nop’.”

That made Lydia’s eyebrow tick up, “But you said you’d gone to meet him.”

He nodded and swallowed at the same time, “I did. Like I told you, I went to ask him about... you know,” Stiles waved his spoon in the air, “The whole war and all.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Stiles noted the others leaning forward with interest, “It’s not a pretty story,” he warned, “Seriously guys. It’s pretty damn depressing.”

“Just tell us,” Scott urged him.

So Stiles took a fortifying breath and quickly told them everything Derek had told him. About him, the princess, Argat’s plan. By the time he was done, Stiles felt out of breath and dizzy, looking around the table at his friends shocked faces. 

“That’s... _ terrible _ !” Allison breathed out, “_That’s _ what happened? _ That’s _what started the war? Some … petty vendetta against Derek and his kind?”

“Well that’s what _ Derek _ said happened,” Stiles corrected her quickly.

“Why are you saying it like that?” Lydia frowned, holding her palm towards Stiles in a questioning gesture, “Just yesterday you were practically singing praises of the guy. Saying you’d misjudged him and that he was the greatest guy you’ve ever known just because he bought you a book.”

A hot flush shot up his cheeks, “I never said that!” Stiles spluttered. Sure he’s said the first part but he’d never said the second half! Okay, he might have _ implied _ it but what Lydia was saying was pure slander! Libel! 

“But you did imply it,” Scott pointed out, “I mean. It was pretty clear yesterday that you trusted Derek. So why the complete 180 after he told you the story?”

Stiles pulled a few faces, uncertain how to word it. “I dunno. I guess it just me? I mean.. Derek’s still a stranger. We’ve only known each other for a couple and days and I shouldn’t be trusting him so easily, right? Plus, it’s one person’s word against another’s you know? I _ want _ to believe him. But I’m just... not sure if it’s safe. It’s not sensible.”

“Since when are _ you _ sensible,” Danny dryly pointed out.

Stile flicked a piece of bread at him, “Not helpful, Danny.”

“You’ll get to the truth. You always do. Just keep following your gut. It’s never let your down before,” Scott offered with a smile, “I know you’ll get to the bottom of this.”

Knowing that Scott believed in him and his abilities caused Stiles to relax immediately. Yeah… He’d get to the bottom of this. After all, he was his father’s son and couldn’t leave a good mystery alone.

And Stiles _ would _ get to the bottom of this.

* * *

Derek _ had _ planned to spend the rest of the day in the library, hiding in a good book until it was time to eat. But he had forgotten one vital thing. There was no hiding in a house full of werewolves. Someone was always going to find you, no matter where you tried to hide. He remembered that when the library door swung open, bringing Erica in. He glanced up at the door and bite down a sigh when Erica’s curious expression turned into a delighted smile. 

“_ There _ you are! Boyd!” She shouted, hair shining like a stream of gold as she looked over her shoulder, “Dereks’ in here! “We’ve been looking all over for you!” 

Derek replied with a heavy sigh. So much for a quiet day alone. After his conversation with Stiles, Derek had wanted to spend some time alone. Clearly the universe wasn’t going to grant him that.Ignoring the questioning look Derek was giving her and Boyd, Erica ducked down to check the title of the book he was holding up. Curiosity turned into a judgmental frown.

“Thomas Hardy? _ Really _ ? You couldn’t find anything more depressing than _ Tess _?”

“It’s what I felt like reading,” Derek replied defensively. “And I like Thomas Hardy!”

“Ain’t nothing wrong in that. But you also like to read depressing stories when you’re down in the dumps,” Boyd pointed out, pulling a book off the shelf. Even though he knew Boyd wouldn’t catch it, Derek glared at him anyways. Boyd coolly flipped a page.

Erica laughed as she perched herself on the chair’s arm, leaning heavily on Derek’s shoulder.. “He’s right, you know. You think you’re all mysterious but you’re actually really obvious.” Her hair swung into his face as she leaned in, making him jerk back before the long strands went into his mouth.

Rolling his eyes, Derek closed his book and was getting ready to abdicate his chair to Erica and retreat to his room when he caught a familiar scent coming off her. He turned to face her, eyes flashing when he asked, “Did you meet Stiles today?”

Erica’s eyes widened in shock, “How did you- ugh, you smelled him on me, didn’t you?” She groaned, legs swinging as she got up to her feet, “I _ hate _ it when you guys do that! You’ve ruined so many surprises because of your super senses!”

“You know you’re going to do the same once you get the bite,” Boyd reminded her with a cheeky grin. 

Derek watched Boyd’s grin soften as Erica smiled warmly at him, “You know me so well.”

“Anyways,” Erica chirped, clapping her hands once to get Derek’s attention. She stood on Derek’s right, facing him while Boyd dragged two chairs forward, “You know we met Stiles today. Don’t you want to know the details?” 

“Now!” Derek internally groaned at Erica’s chipper voice. She had turned to face him, dragging a second chair forward next to him before dropping into it. “Don’t you want to know what we were doing meeting Stiles in town?”

Derek glanced warily between the pair before slowly asking, “You didn’t threaten him, did you? Or try to pick a fight with him?” 

He could already see it in his head. Erica cornering Stiles in some shady alley, while Boyd played look out. Her pushing Stiles up against a wall, growling threats and promises of physical violence in case he stepped out of line. It was adorable how the youngest humans of their pack were the most protective members of the family. 

“Of course not! We just had a friendly conversation!” Erica scowled at him as she sat down, “What do you take us for?”

Derek gave her a deadpan stare. “I still remember the way you broke a vase on Isaac’s head when he wouldn’t let you meet my mother.” 

That had been one hell of a day and one _ hell _ of a first impression Erica had made. While Isaac had forgiven her for the act, he hadn’t forgotten about it. Any time they got into a fight, Isaac would make sure to stay well out of her arms reach and would keep eyeing the area around her in anticipation of any sudden flying objects. Whenever he’d see someone being on the receiving end of Erica’s wrath, Isaac would rub the back of his head and wince. As though he could still feel the crystal vase cracking against his skull. His mother still laughed about that actually. Derek was pretty sure Erica was one of her favorites because of her determination to do whatever that needed to be done.

“That was self-defense,” Erica lied immediately, exuding an angelic innocence as she pouted at Derek.

Derek snorted loudly in disbelief, closing his book and putting it down as Boyd sat down as well. “If you didn’t threaten him, then what _ did _ you talk about? The weather?” Derek asked sarcastically.

Erica’s good humor vanished in an instant. Her heart rate had spiked. Her usual sweet scent was tinged with guilt and nervousness. The same scent was coming off Boyd but to a lesser extent. Erica glanced over at Boyd before he began in a steady but low voice, “We followed you today. When Stiles came.”

Derek frowned immediately. He remembered checking before he and Stiles had started talking. They have been surrounded by nothing but nature while talking. “That’s not possible.” He said, “I would have heard you.”

Repentance and sly humor fought for a moment over Boyd’s face before the latter won, “We knew you’d check before you started talking.”

“So we waited 10 minutes before following you,” Erica finished with a half-smile. “We heard the whole thing. What you talked about with Stiles and…”

“Was there anyone else with you?” 

“It was just me and Boyd. When Cora told us that Stiles wanted to talk to you in private, we thought that we’d… you know…”

Derek curled his palms around the gentle curve of the chair’s arm. He pressed his claws against the wood and willed himself not to push in, “Why?” Derek growled out, knowing full well how threatening he sounded. 

“We were worried about you.”

Derek scowled. “Worried? About _ me _? Whatever for?”

Erica’s face was a study of incredulity. “You’re kidding right? Like we were gonna let you walk away with some human you’ve barely known for a week? How could we trust that the guy only wanted to talk! And the way you’ve been acting since you met this guy…”

He opened his mouth to argue but Erica was already shaking her head, “That’s not right. The way you’ve been acting ever since you had to take Stiles to Deaton? It’s been worrying. You’ve been acting all… different.”

“No I haven’t!” 

Erica shot his denial down with a hard look, “You _ have _,” She insisted firmly, “You’ve been a lot more...” Trailing off, Erica frowned off into space as she searched for the right word. “It’s like you got. Lighter. Less broody. Which is weird!”

“Because you’re never happy when you’re forced to spend time with a random stranger,” Boyd spoke up, “I still remember the time how mad you got when your mom wanted you to show Alpha Beth’s kid around town after he got back.” Derek stared at Boyd, wondering since when had these two become so observant. Boyd’s broad shoulders rose and fell in a graceful shrug, “Everyone knows that. You hate it. You hate the way people ask you personal questions when you don’t even know them. You hate it when people try to force you to be social and stuff.” 

He felt Erica’s hand cover the back of his hand, soft and gentle, “And then you got told to take Stiles to Deaton. Do you know how many people came up to us telling us how happy they were to see you talking and laughing with someone else? To see you not just… running errands as fast as you could? You even had lunch with him in the park! You who tries to get these kind of tour guide duties over with ASAP.” 

Surprise flooded him instantly, along with a blush, “Who told you that?” Derek hadn’t told anyone but his mother about that when giving her a full report of his jaunt.

Erica snorted in amusement, “A whole bunch of people You _ were _out in public after all. Mabel sent Laura a note saying how surprised she was to see you out with a human. And there was Joan and Jane from the café. Eddie, Stan… A lot of other café patrons. You were the gossip of the day.”

Derek groaned, hiding his face into his free hand. He should have known! The speed at which gossip traveled in their city would never cease to astound him. He was surprised no one else had brought this up with him sooner, to be totally frank. And Mabel had told Laura? Jeez, he was never going to hear the end of this. Actually it was a surprise she hadn’t come to him already, nose turned up in smug pride that she’d been right yet again. That she’d known about his feelings before he had. Ugh. She was going to be _ insufferable. _

“So just because I was social with someone who didn’t get on my nerves you think I’m acting out of character?” Derek asked, lowering his hand back down, “I’m sorry to break this to you but I’m not as much of a hermit you make me out to be.”

Erica laughed. Threw her head back and laughed, “Oh please. You’re _ totally _ a hermit. And you’re a lot worse than _ you _realize.” 

Boyd was giving him a dry look, “Give us a little more credit, Derek. We know you. We’ve grown up in this house. We’ve seen the way you act around friends.”

“And the way you’ve acted around Stiles is different. I mean... the look on your face when you found out that Siles and his friends had left,” Erica’s words made Derek’s heart clench in his chest. His wide eyed expression made Erica smile softly at him.

Her hand slid down to grasp his cool fingers, squeezing them tightly as she continued, “You looked so hurt. I’ve never seen you look like that.”

Derek felt stricken as he gazed at Erica, wondering what other things he might have unintentionally given away. He had thought he’d acted like normal. Clearly he’d overestimated himself.

Boyd’s quiet laugh pulled Derek’s attention to him. The teenager was grinning, “And the way you rushed down when you found out that Stiles had come to see you? You’re _ never _that happy to meet someone you just me. I can’t remember you ever doing that for any of us.”

“And the day after you showed Stiles around?” Erica added, “You came home for lunch. You don’t do that because you always say that going to town, coming back for lunch, and going back out is too inefficient. But that day you came home and asked where Stiles was. Not where their group was or how Scott was doing. You asked where Stiles was.” 

“Was I thought obvious?” Derek asked weakly, very glad for the chair he was sitting on. 

Erica chuckled. Her laugh was filled with warm affection and fondness, “Only to the people paying attention. So, around half the house suspects that something is up.” 

Derek felt his cheeks warm. 

“Although the way you ran down to meet Stiles the other day?” Boyd brought up, eyes crinkling with humor. “I’m sure _ everyone _ must know you like Stiles now. There’s no way to miss it.”

Derek couldn’t stop himself from cringing at that word choice. He exhaled shortly, shook his head and said, “I’m not sure if I _ like _ him. I think he’s attractive yes but… isn’t it too soon to know if I like him or not?”

Erica and Boyd exchanged a look before directing matching uncertain looks at him, “How _ do _ you feel about him?” she asked gently.

His mouth opened and words poured out before Derek could gather them. Like he’d just been waiting for someone to ask. “He’s interesting. He doesn’t see me as a monster. It’s like he sees me for the person I am rather than _ what _ I am. He doesn’t pity me or think that I might go out of control… From the start, Stiles hadn’t treated me like… He’s always treated me like a person. A person who happens to be a werewolf. Given how curious he is, I kept expecting him to ask me intrusive questions about me being a werewolf. And he did. A bunch of questions. But after that… do you know what he asked me?” 

Derek looked at Boyd and Erica. Their eyes glimmered with gentle as they listened, hanging on his every word, “He asked what kind of books I like to read in my spare time,” Derek smiled at the memory. Stiles had asked him that as soon as they’d stepped out of the bookshop.

Boyd’s eyebrows shot up in mild surprise. Erica exhaled a laugh, grinning as Derek continued, “After that he asked me what I did for fun, what my favorite place to visit was. All his questions were… It’s like he wanted to know _ me _and not…And I kept thinking he was going to ask me why I don’t look like everyone else. But he never did. He asked so many personal questions but never about why I always looked like this. And when he did I just…”

After a small pause, Boyd spoke up, “You didn’t _ have _ to tell him. You know that right?” He leaned forward in his chair, elbows on his thighs and fingers linked in between, “It’s not like you owe him anything. And you _ definitely _ didn’t owe him your life story.”

Derek opened his mouth to argue he hadn’t told Stiles his _ life story _ , stop sensationalizing things Boyd, but Erica spoke up first, “What made you tell him the truth? I mean. You didn’t tell _ us _ until we’d been in the pack for months. Even then we heard it from your mom first. ” 

Exhaling quietly, Derek tried not to feel guilty about that. What happened with Paige was a deep wound that still ached. It was a deeply personal matter and he hadn’t wanted to talk about it with anyone. Even now. Derek had closed himself off for a long time after he’d lost Paige. It had taken him an even longer while to come back to himself, to let go of the guilt and pain enough so that he could live again. But he’d never let his guard down completely after that. Too scared of being hurt so deeply again. Too scared of letting anyone else get too close to him lest they ask him what had happened in his past. 

“I don’t know,” Derek answered honestly after a long pause, “I just. Felt like I could trust him.” His emotions twisted and writhed together inside of him until Derek couldn’t make heads or tails of them. He had thought Stiles was trustworthy, so he’d told him. But Cora, and his dad, used to tell him often enough that he was prone to trusting people too deeply, too soon. Especially if he liked them. That thought only deepened his uncertainty. Maybe his feelings for Stiles went beyond simple attraction? 

“You don’t know?” Erica repeated slowly, thrown off by the honest answer. “Come on. There’s gotta be _ some _ reason you thought it was okay to share something _ this _ big with him! Like, what made you think you could trust him? You’ve only known him for what? Five days? Four? What’d he done in four days that so many of us haven’t done in _ years _?” Her voice went higher near the end, frustration heavy in every syllable. 

Derek cringed at her tone. Boyd shot her a warning look, ignoring the way she huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “She’s got a point thought,” He said quietly, “What made you think it was okay to trust him. Was it what you said before? That he didn’t treat you like you were a werewolf and just like a person?”

Derek considered that, frowning in thought. “Yes. But it was also a gut feeling. Haven’t you ever met someone and you just _ know _ they’re trustworthy? You feel like you can relax around them and not have to put on any masks?” 

He stared curiously at Boyd, wondering if he understood what Derek was talking about. Boyd’s eyes slowly slid away from his face, towards Erica, “I’ve got an idea what that feels like,” Boyd said quietly, smiling softly at the blonde.

Erica smiled back at him before turning to Derek, “I hate to break it to you Derek, but you _ clearly _ like the guy if _ that’s _ how you feel.”

“How can you be so sure?” He asked urgently, “How do you know that I _ like _ him?”

“Seems pretty obvious to me. I mean. You’re happy when you spend time around him. You get excited when he comes to see you. You said that he’s attractive. That’s how it starts.” Erica shrugged easily, “Liking someone doesn’t have to be some suddenly bolt out of the blue kind of feeling. It can be smaller, confusing, and still pretty intense.” 

Derek tipped his head back, skull hitting the back of the chair hard enough for a sharp pain to shoot down his spine. When she put it like that Derek felt like an idiot for having missed all the signs himself. Hindsight was twenty-twenty he supposed.

“What am I going to do now?” He sigh asked the ceiling.

Derek had honestly meant that as a rhetorical question. 

So he was pretty surprised when, a couple of minutes later, Erica said, “I’ve got an idea...”


	2. Chapter 2

After his talk with Derek two days ago, Stiles had decided that they both needed some space. Partially because he’d felt guilty as hell for asking Derek what he’d asked; Stiles had unintentionally reopened an unhealed wound for the werewolf and he’d felt like  _ crap _ about it. So yeah. Space. That seemed like a good idea for both of them.  So the next day, he’d gone to Deaton’s with Lydia, hoping that they might learn something new. They hadn’t but Deaton had confirmed Derek’s story. The healer had even mentioned he had a personal diary of a teenage shifter who had died during the journey to the city. Deaton had promised to find it and get it to them.

Other than that, time had passed languidly. Stiles and the others went to explore the city at their own pace. They’d gone to the park and spent half the day there. Allison and Scott sparred and flirted in equal parts while Stiles and Lydia sat with a notebook between them, noting down all the magical creatures that they could see. 

Upon arriving back to their cottage, they nearly bumped into a thin-lipped lady with sharp eyed. She’d taken one look at them and asked, “Are you the humans living here?”

When Scott had answered in the affirmative, she’d given them a longer, more penetrating look before clicking her tongue in disapproval, “You’re all are too  _ thin _ ! I’ll send larger portions from tonight.” And that was how they discovered that Ms. Black had been the person making their meals for them. They’d invited her to stay for lunch but she’d hurried off, saying she had more errands to run and food to cook. Come dinner time, t rue to her word, the lady sent over twice the amount of food for dinner. Stiles had ate his fill and went to bed a happy man, going to sleep almost immediately.

The next day, Stiles had woken up with a desire to go meet Derek and apologize. Stiles wanted to kick himself in the head for not having done that at the  _ time _ . He’d up and left without apologizing to Derek! His conscious tended to kick in a little slow, so sue him. But he could do that today, as soon as he was done with breakfast. He'd go down to the Hale house and apologize in person. Plan made, Stiles was ready to start his day.

But right as he stepped out the door, half-listening to Lydia and Allison chattering excitedly about some fancy cloth they'd seen in some shop, Stiles caught sight of Derek perched atop a dappled gray horse, clopping his way down the road. There was a second horse trotting behind him, it’s color such a pale gray it was nearly silver under the morning light.

Stiles had blinked in surprise, tilting his head as he asked, “You guys seeing what I’m seeing?” 

“I think he’s here for you,” Lydia poked him in the ribs, making him jump forward straight into Derek’s path. 

After shooting Lydia a glare, and ignoring the discreet thumbs-up the others gave him, Stiles walked up to Derek with his heart in his throat. The shifter remained seated on his horse when he walked it up to Stiles, “Morning.”

“Morning,” Stiles answered back, sticking his hands in his jacket, “What brings you to our part of our town?” 

Derek nodded at the horse, “I wanted to show you something. It’s at the edge of the valley and takes a few hours to get there. Would you… Would you come with me?”

“Something?” Stiles asked curiously, feeling nervous and excited as he wondered what Derek was planning, “Is it a surprise?”

“Something like that.”

“Will I like it?” Stiles took a step forward towards the second horse, smiling when she immediately pressed her nose against his hand. 

Shooting him a shy smile, Derek answered, “I think you will.”

Next to him Lydia whispered, "This almost sounds like a date."

Ignoring that comment, Stiles focused on Derek. “How do I get on the horse?” Stiles asked, “Scott, help me up.”

But as soon as they were on their merry way, the comment ping-ponged around in Stiles' head. If his hands weren't holding onto the reins for dear life, Stiles would have started gnawing his nails in worry. His eyes slipped up to Derek, greedily taking in the strong profile the shifter made. Stiles noted the easy way Derek held the reins, the clean lines of his forearms. His eyes lingered on Derek’s thighs, half in admiration and half in envy. God those were… Just. Stiles sighed dreamily and reached to grab his canteen because he had a _serious _case of cotton mouth going on.

Stiles was trying to unscrew the canteen with one hand when Derek looked at him. Eyes darting up, Stiles froze guiltily and hoped he hadn’t been caught ogling the guy. Smiling nervously, Stiles tightened his grip on the reins and took a quick sip.  Relief flooded him when Derek returned his smile, small but nervous. Derek’s horse, Belle, nickered loudly. She had began to veer off the road as soon as Derek had stopped paying attention.

“Easy there.” Derek murmured, clicking his tongue as he directed her back on the path.

Stiles tilted his head in curiosity. “Isn’t that hard?” He asked, the words falling out before he could stop that. Derek glanced over, expression furrowed in confusion. Stiles pointed at Derek’s face. “The talking and all. Don’t you fangs get in the way?”

Derek’s eyes widened in bewilderment. For a split second, Stiles wondered if he’d crossed some line by asking that silly question. So much for keeping the peace and avoiding going back into awkward territory. But Stiles’ mouth had clearly decided it was open season on unusual personal questions regarding Derek and his shifter behaviors instead of listening to his brain and being a decent person.

Derek ducked and shook his head in wonder, chuffing out a quiet laugh. “Not anymore they don’t” He replied, grinning. “I’ve gotten used to having a full set of teeth in my mouth.”

It was Stiles’ turn to laugh.  Taking Derek’s ease as permission, Stiles spent the rest of their journey to ask Derek a ton more mundane questions. “Have you ever tried peeling an apple with your claws?” “Are shifter senses more enhanced in their beta form?” “Is your pack just your mom, sisters, Isaac, Erica and Boyd? Or are there more people?” “Do they all live in the manor too?” “What about pumpkins? Have you ever carved a pumpkin using your claws?” “How old  _ are _ you anyways?” 

And to his sheer delight, Derek answered all his questions, no matter how innane.  “No, never have.”, “A little bit.”, “The other members of our pack live in smaller houses behind the manor. We might be pack but everyone needs their own space.”, “ _ No _ . They’re claws! Not carving knives.” and he shrugged enigmatically at the last one.

“Oh come on!” Stiles whined, clumsily making his horse, named Silver as it turned out, move closer to Derek, “Give me a number! You’ve got to be  _ at least _ a couple of hundred years old if you were around when the war started, right?”

Derek smirked in return, “I need to keep  _ some _ secrets to keep your interest.” 

Stiles had hrumphed in pretend anger, looking away to hide the flush on his cheeks. But not fast enough to miss the grin Derek was directing his way. That was clear flirting if he’d ever heard it. 

Derek changed the topic to their surroundings once Stiles’ questions tapered off, talking about raising cattle and growing crops on the fertile valley soil. A few times Derek pushed himself up to his feet to check the field they were passing by to figure out what was growing there. Stiles tried not to sigh dreamily yet again at the sight Derek cut highlight by the light peeping through the trees that lined the road. 

Another thing Stiles noticed pretty quickly was that they weren’t the only travelers on the road. Which made sense when Stiles thought about it. The double road seemed be the main road that went straight into the city. A pair of centaurs weighed down with baskets heavy with fruits strapped to their backs nodded to Derek as they headed towards the city. A wagon driven by a heavy set, dusky skinned lady rumbled by after that. A group of youngsters paused their aggressive game of tag to watch them pass by, faces shifting to playfully growl at Derek before running away squealing when Derek growling back.

“Is this the only big road that heads to the city?” Stiles asked curiously.

Derek shook his head, pointing in different directions, “There’s three more roads – to the east, west, and south. We made the city in the middle of the valley and we have people living all the way to the edge so we made sure to at least make four main roads into the city. There’s smaller roads too like through the forest behind the house and through the fields. But most people stick with the main roads.”

That made sense. Stiles nodded and glanced through the trees before turning back as much as he could to see how far away from the city they were. Thanks to the little changing topography, it seemed like the journey was taking a long ass time. The fields and small clusters of farm houses seemed to go on forever, stretching all over the valley. 

“I hope this isn’t an offensive question but … the barns,” Stiles nodded at the big red colored building they were passing by, “Are they just for cattle or do centaurs stay there too? I mean, they’re really big and I haven’t seen any really big houses so… Where do centaurs  _ stay _ ? Or any of the bigger creatures?”

Derek laughed throatily, “That  _ is  _ a little offensive but it depends from family to family. Some of them prefer the open barns and some of them built their own homes. And for any of the bigger creatures, they adjusted the standard plans to their size. Do you remember the grey skinned couple we saw at the fountain? They live in the city and made their house themselves.”

“What  _ are _ they anyways? I’ve never … I couldn’t figure out what they were.”

“They’re a fae-subspecies. I’m not sure either but they’re fae.”

Stiles pulled a disbelieving face, “Fae can grow  _ that _ big? And with  _ horns _ ?”

“It’s a huge world out there,” Derek reminded him, moving towards him as a small group of shifters cantered by.

That was true. Stiles wondered how many other species were living in Haven that the outside world didn’t even know about. This city just… kept on giving and made his inner academic squeal with delight on a daily basis. He wondered if Lydia was experiencing the same feelings too.

For a long time after that, they rode in silence through the tree-lined path. It was warm and comfortable; the canopy over their head shielded then from the worst of the sunlight, making the journey comfortable. But the exertion involved in riding had Stiles pushing his jacket off and tying it around his waist. He thought he saw Derek stare at him when he was knotting the sleeves together. But when he’d glanced over, Derek was staring down the road.

The lazy gait at which they were going began to rock Stiles into a sleepy haze. If it wasn’t for how hard he swayed with every step, Stiles was sure he’d have fallen asleep. In fact, he wasn’t sure that he  _ hadn’t _ because the view had changed.  The dusty road which had been lined with small to medium sized, clean stones was now lined with larger, uneven sized stones covered with moss. The view around them had finally changed too. The trees were thicker now and the road narrower, forcing Derek to move to the front and Stiles behind him.  He was satisfied with keeping a couple of feet of distance between them but when a sudden mist began to creep through the trees, Stiles gently nudged Silver forward and stuck as close to Derek and Belle as possible. 

“Does the mist get all the way to the city?” Stiles asked, shivering at the cold. Should he put his jacket back on?

“Sometimes in winter. And after it rains. It won’t last too long, it moves really fast.” 

And true to Derek’s word, they were out of the mist within minutes. Stiles turned back to stare at the white mist behind him and while doing so, noticed a smaller path going through the trees. He similar paths leading into the forest in winding paths.  All of them made Stiles crane his neck to see how far the path went. 

“Where do those go down too?”

Derek paused and turned around to check what Stiles meant. When he saw what Stiles was talking about. Stiles pointed down the path going into the forest on their right.

“People’s homes.”

Stiles wondered who lived so far away from the city and why. Maybe fae or nymphs? This seemed like the kind of place they’d like. And speaking of that.

“What  _ is _ this mysterious place you’re taking me too?” Stiles asked soon after they were trotting down the forest path, “And how much further is it?” 

Ahead of him, Belle snorted and flipped her tail. Derek’s voice floated back amused and teasing, “Patience isn’t your strong suite, is it?” 

“I’ve been  _ plenty  _ patient! If you were anyone else, I would have started the ‘Are we there yet?’ game long ago. Like, ten minutes after we left long ago!” 

When Derek gave him a confused look, Stiles explained the game to him. Which required telling the story about the time their class had been on a trip with his least favorite teacher, Adrian Harris, as their chaperone. Before Stiles knew it, he was explaining different travel games to the shifter.  Mid way his storytelling, Stiles noted that over the sounds of the forest, he could hear a dull roaring sound coming from somewhere nearby. 

‘ _ What is that? _ ’ Stiles wondered, tilting his head as he tried to pinpoint what the sound was. It sounded vaguely familiar...

The trees were starting to thin out now, allowing the riders to see the sky again. The stones size had grown again. In fact, the whole area was starting to become  _ really  _ rocky. Stiles tried to sit up in his saddle and get a clearer view of where they were going when he heard a musical call coming from somewhere overhead.  Eyes drawn up to the skies, they widened when he saw a copper-colored creature flying in a lazy circle. It was hard to tell from the distance but it looked remarkably like a peacock, only colored rust, orange, and gold. 

“What is  _ that _ ?” He gasped, falling back into his saddle.

Silver had come to an abrupt halt, snorting and tossing her head in annoyance while Stiles gaped at the creature flying overhead. It looked huge. Actually  _ huge _ ! 

“Simurgh. Do you know about them?” Derek asked, going on after Stiles shoot his head, “They’re from Persia and are said to purify the land and water and improve fertility. They’ve got a dog’s head, peacock’s body, and lion’s claws. A mated pair showed up a little while after we got here. Mom convinced them to roost here; to help bless this place. They’ve built their nest high up in the mountains. They rarely come down where the rest of us are.”

“How come?” Stiles asked, finally looking down at Derek. 

Derek smiled wryly, “They’re not too fond of company  _ and  _ they’re really, really big. I think they could carry an elephant if they wanted too. Come on. We’re nearly there. It’s just a little further.”

As he guided Silver to follow Belle, Stiles gave the simurgh flying overheard one last mournful look before turning his face back down. As they climbed the low hill, Stiles tilted his head and frowned.

_ ‘That’s weird,’ _ Stiles mused,  _ ‘The roaring sound’s gotten louder. What the hell is it…I know I’ve heard it before... _ ’ 

He got his answer as soon as he and Silver crested the hill. 

Stiles’ eyes grew wide in wondrous surprise.  Standing on top of a hill gave the pair a perfect view of a rocky waterfall pouring out of the side of the mountain, falling into an even larger lake that was  _ teeming _ with all kinds of magical creatures. At one point the waterfall fell into a large bowl carved into the mouth, and from there three streams were falling into the larger lake.  Water rippled against the smoothed pebbles that lined the edge of the lake. There were several trees around the edge of the lake, thin and spindly looking things with sturdy dark trunks and yellow leaves that shivered with every small gust of wind. There were even a few in the middle of the lake, submerged half way and with huge crowns and even larger canopies.

But it wasn’t the rough, natural beauty that captured Stiles’ attention. No. It was all the shifters he could see in front of him. His eyes were too busy moving from the mermaids cleaning their teeth atop a few flat rocks underneath a tree, to the man shaking out his seal pelt with a frown before hanging it back up on a branch, to the herd of kelpie being groomed by a large group of pale skinned water nymphs.

He felt warm fingers touch his shoulder. Stiles turned to stare at Derek, who was smiling at Stiles’ awe.

“Ready to take a closer look?” 

Stiles almost nodded his head off in eager delight. 

They dismounted on the hill, tying the horses off to one of the few trees growing there. Derek had explained that the horses weren’t fond of getting too close to kelpies. The kelpies were fond of sneaking up on real horses and scaring them into running away. And Belle in particular, was a feisty mare who would kick back when she mad and kelpie’s did  _ not  _ appreciate being on the receiving end of a horses’ kick.

After throwing his jacket over a branch, Stiles hurriedly followed Derek down the hill. It was a short walk made shorter thanks to how he jogged ahead of Derek saying, “Let’s go, go, go!” 

As they drew closer to the lake, Stiles fretted over who to observe first. And could he meet some of these people? Oh fuck sticks, he didn't even have a diary to write any of things down! His torn expression moved from one group to another, causing Derek to chuckle. 

Derek took his jacket off, folding it over his arm before directing Stiles to take his shoes and socks off, “And your shirt maybe? This might get… wet.” 

“We’re going to go  _ into _ the lake?” Stiles exclaimed, all but vibrating in place in anticipation. Derek’s nod and grin turned anticipation into excitement, making his fingers fly as he shucking his plaid shirt and shoes off before hurriedly rolling his jeans up to his ankles. 

After Derek had taken his own shoes off, he began to lead them into the water. While doing so, the shifter began to explain how there was a large stream higher up the mountain, along with a few small lakes where most of the water creatures lives.  “But at some point it goes under the mountain and comes back out here.” He finished, nodding towards the waterfall, “The stream was originally somewhere inside the mountain but using some magic and the help of some nymphs, we managed to redirect the stream towards the inside. This lake is the whole valley's water supply.”

Giving Stiles a gentle nudge, Derek nodded at the woman sitting on a ledge, running a comb through her hair, “You should meet Tayana first. She’s a Lamia, so don’t ask to touch her snakeskin. And don’t say anything that’s going to make her worry harder about how she’s been shedding scales.” 

For the next hour or two, Derek led Stiles from one group of creatures to another.  The mermaids were charming - in a Hannibal Lector, charismatic serial killer kind of way. They kept trying to convince Derek to let them gnaw off one of Stiles’ arms. “He’s got two hasn’t he?”  One of them had said, pale eyes sliding towards Stiles as she flashed all her sharp teeth at him. A shiver of fear ran down his spine when he noticed they had  _ two _ sets of teeth, just like sharks. It made him shift behind Derek immediately, screw discretion. 

The selkie’s had been friendlier, allowing Stiles to examine their precious pelts drying off on one of the trees branches. They hadn’t minded him asking a few questions either. They were a lot more friendlier than the mermaids and lot less homicidal as well. But the older selkies seemed very melancholic to Stiles.  “We miss the sea,” an old lady explained, long hair twisted in a lazy braid over her brown shoulder, “Its call is faint but we can still hear it. But we cannot answer it. If we were to leave then we risk death. It is a hard life.”

The younger generation was a different story all together. They were energetic and curious and were tumbling over each other as they played. A few of them had even bumped into his legs, barking and clapping their fins at him for getting in their way. One of the young ones, probably no older than six, had grabbed his hand and demanded he play tag with them.  It hadn’t taken long for Stiles to be completely soaked as he played with the youngsters. In fact, it had taken an exact 40 seconds. One of the kids had snuck up behind him and slapped his tail against Stiles’ calves, causing Stiles to yelp and fall down into the water. Amused by this, they kept trying to sneak up on him for the next twenty minutes.  They’d only stopped when one of the older selkie’s had sternly told them to stop, “I don’t mind!” Stiles had coughed out while sitting in chest high water. He was freezing cold true but he’d never felt more alive or happy. 

Derek shook his head and helped him back up, hot hand clasped around Stiles’ wrist. And there it stayed when Derek said, “I’ll introduce you to the nymphs next. They’re a little shy so don’t feel bad if they don’t talk to you.” 

Too distracted by Derek’s touch, Stiles dumbly nodded and allowed himself to be led away. They were still holding hands when Derek introduced him to the water spirits. Stiles hoped that Derek would take his racing heartbeat as an indication of general excitement and not just because their hands were clasped together. 

The short, dark skinned spirits stood in a loose group together, faces hiding behind water-slicked dark hair as they shyly greeted Stiles. They were all pretty he noted, in a melancholic kind of way. Water ghosts, he wanted to say. They all wore a silky, shimmering kind of raiment that covered only their hips. And necklaces. So many necklaces. Made of pearls, shells of all shapes, sizes, and colors, and even scales. 

Distantly he could hear himself gently greeting them back and asking them a few questions, but for the life of him, Stiles couldn’t remember  _ what _ he’d asked because _Derek was still holding his hand_. His brain felt like it was on fire and running around in panic.  Who would have thought that Stiles would actually thank God for his ability to talk without using his brain. 

Once Stiles had run out of questions to ask, Derek led them back up the hill, _still holding Stiles' hand_! “We’re just going up to get lunch. We’ll be back after a while.” Derek explained.

All the way up the hill, their linked fingers hung between them and kept Stiles warm. It was only when they’d gotten up to the horses that Derek let go. Stiles' hand felt cold and bereft immediately. Their horses were dozing in the sun, tails flicking every so often to bat away any flies that had settled on their hind legs.  Belle let out a sleepy nicker when Derek began to unstrap the large woven basket that she’d carried all the way here. 

Stiles stood next to Derek and asked, “Need any help?”

“I’m fine. Can you check the bag on the other side and take the picnic blanket out?”

Picnic blanket? Stiles perked up at the thought, bouncing over to Belle’s other side to pull the blanket out of the bag, “Did you bring a packed lunch?”

“I asked Constance to put it together,” Derek replied, putting the basket down.

Stiles quickly unfurled the blanket but it began to flutter away as soon as he laid it down. So while Stiles looked around for stones to weigh down the corners of the blanket, Derek began to pull items out of the picnic basket.  There were strawberries and cream, apples, hard boiled eggs, sandwiches, and a huge bottle of water. Upon closer inspection, the sandwiches turned out to be cured ham with a generous slather of mustard or beef. And Constance had even packed some plates and glasses as well.

Sitting across from Derek, enjoying the sun falling on them, it felt very date-like.  And the mood was made better the second Stiles took a bite out of the sandwich. Because the food was simple but  _ delicious.  _ If heaven was what you made of it, then this was his heaven – good food, good company, and good weather. 

“Having fun?” 

Derek’s question pulled him back into the moment.  Swallowing, Stiles answered, “Totally! This is a serious contender for the best day of my life. This was a great surprise. Thank you so much!”

“It was my pleasure,” Derek smiled.

“I was wondering something though. You know a lot about...” Stiles gestured with his half eaten sandwich at the lake and its inhabitants, “Do you like them more than others? Water-based creatures?”

Derek looked down at the egg in his hand, focusing intently on delicately peeling the cracked shell pieces off with his claws, “I do. I’ve uh. I’ve actually written a few books on them. On water spirits, sirens, and selkies.”

He stared at Derek in surprise, sandwich forgotten, “A few?” Stiles parroted, “How many is a few?” 

There was a pause where Derek’s ears turned pink. “Five,” Derek answered finally.

“ _ Five _ ?” Stiles gawked, “That’s incredible! Are they available in Jim’s shop? In the self-published section? Can I read them?” 

Derek's dumb founded look turned into frowny consideration. “They are but I’m not sure if they would interest you.”

“Are you  _ kidding _ me?” Stiles shouted loud enough to get the attention of one of the mermaids down in the lake. “Of  _ course _ I’m interested! I wouldn’t say if I wasn’t! I’m  _ totally _ interested! I’d love to read what you’ve written.”  The surprised look on Derek’s face made Stiles wonder if maybe he was being too pushy. He cleared his throat hurriedly and corrected himself, “That is, if you’re okay with it. Because I don’t want you thinking you owe me or anything. Feel free to strike me down anything I push too hard.”

Derek shook his head slowly, “No. It’s alright I’ve just never had someone be so interested in what I’ve written.”

“That can’t be true,” Stiles frowned, “ _ Someone _ must have been!”

“It might surprise you to learn that not a lot of people are interested in the life and habits of selkies,” Derek’s answer was dry as a bone, his expression one of wry humor, “Even in the magical world. It’s very dry stuff.”

Stiles pointed to himself with his hand, tilted his chin up as he replied, “Well, you’ve got at least  _ one _ interested person! I want to read those books. And I’m going to pester you until you give me them.”

He grinned, a hot feeling growing in his chest when Derek smiled at his words. They went back to quietly eating their food. Stiles felt that hot feeling pulse every time he caught Derek sneaking looks at him as they ate. And when Derek would catch  _ him  _ sneaking looks back. The feeling spiked when, while they were cleaning up, their fingers brushed against each other’s accidentally. H eat suffused through Stiles, from head to toe, when Derek took his hand again. Linked their fingers together and gruffly told Stiles that they were going to talk to the sirens first and then the kelpies. 

“Stay close to me when we go to the kelpies. They’re mischievous  _ and _ unpredictable. You always have to keep your eye on them.” 

Stiles heard that warning. He made a mental note of it and everything. But forgot about it because Derek was holding his hand again! And then he’d spent nearly two whole hours talking with the sirens. So Derek’s warning skipped his mind all together.  And then he got a rude reminder of Derek’s warning roughly 15 minutes later. He’d been petting one of the older kelpie’s flank, admiring the sea weed like quality to its mane when the creature had reared back and kicked Stiles into the water. Stiles had gone down with a yell and a splash.  He’d come back up shivering and cursing the creature, who had pranced away into deeper waters where more of the herd was gathered.

“I did warn you,” Derek reminded him with a smile, offering Stiles a hand back up.

Accepting Derek’s help, Stiles stood up and glared at the kelpie that was snickering several feet away, and growled, “I like that satyr more than I do kelpies right now.  _ God, _ I’m freezing! Was the water this cold before?” 

“Kelpie’s influence,” Derek told him with a frown, “It’s like a defense mechanism and the sun’s going down too. Come on, let’s get you warmed up. I'll start a fire.” 

Oh the innuendos... Stiles shoved them aside, gladly following Derek out of the water. The sun had gone behind the mountains already; the sky painted in shades of orange and purple. After they’d grabbed their stuff, they began to trudge up the hill. “None of the creatures like fire," Derek explained, "It’ll be safer if we do it up on the hill.” 

Once on top, Stiles stood shivering pathetically next to Silver while Derek pulled a thick blanket out of his bag, “I’ll start the fire. You should take those wet clothes off.” Derek told him as he handed Stiles the blanket, “Put this on. And your dry clothes.” 

His dry clothes were just his socks and plaid top-shirt but it was better than nothing. The blanket smelled like horses and hay but it was woolen and would be warm.  Stiles turned his back to Derek and the lake, hurriedly peeling his wet clothes off and slipping into the dry clothes. Stiles see-sawed between tying the blanket around his waist or throwing it around his shoulders before opting for the latter. This way his legs wouldn’t feel too cold. And he still had his jacket too! Where was that…

After zipping his jacket up, Stiles turned around. And froze.  Derek had not only gotten a fire going, but had also taken off his own wet shirt off. The shifter stood with his back towards Stiles, arms briskly shaking his damp shirt in the air before hanging it on a low branch. Stiles felt his throat go dry at the sight of Derek’s large tattoo  _ rippling _ with every move he made. His chapped lips parted as he greedily took in Derek’s torso.  And then Derek turned around.

His knees felt like they had turned to jelly. If Derek’s back had been a vision, then his front was a revelation. Derek had been hiding one hell of a body underneath his clothes. His pecs and biceps made a whimper rise up Stiles’ throat. And his abs? Stiles would willingly sit and stare at the fire’s light bouncing off their sharp lines with every breath Derek took. And then there was the way Derek’s pants were stuck to his thighs. Jeez. 

“Stiles?”

Derek’s voice slipped in through the fog filling his head. “Yeah?” Stiles asked breathlessly, feeling his brain cells die a little when Derek stepped up and touched his forehead with a worried look.

Stiles shivered underneath the warm palm, not sure if it was because of Derek’s touch or the cool breeze that had just swept by them, “You’re a little warm. Here, sit down by the fire. Give me your clothes, I’ll hang them up to dry too.”

“I’ll help,” Stiles insisted. 

A few minutes later, they began to move towards the fire together. It was just a few steps away but Stiles stumbled thrice during his short journey. Once was accidental. The second was because, after the first tripping incident, Derek had put his arm around Stiles’ shoulders to guide him, making him trip over his own damn feet. And the third was because Derek’s hand brushed too close to the ticklish spot on his neck. 

“You’re a walking hazard,” Derek grumbled, waiting for Stiles to sit down before turning away and bending down to tend to the fire.  With a dreamy smile, Stiles propped his head up on his fist, elbow on thigh, and watched Derek’s form being highlighted by the fire. He wanted to sigh in admiration at how nice the curve of Derek’s back was. And then there was his tattoo.  Three spirals spreading out from a central point. The lines were thick and solid. Unbroken. Strong. 

It reminded Stiles of Derek. 

* * *

As he hung Stiles clothes up to dry next to his shirt, Derek made a quick note to quietly thank Boyd and Erica for their idea to spend some more time with Stiles.  Coming to the lake however, had been all Derek’s idea. While the plan which had sounded perfect the night before, it had had transformed into an increasingly terrible idea the closer he'd gotten to Stiles cottage.  Doubt had swirled in his head, making him question everything. Would Stiles even be home? Would he consent to going with Derek without being told where they were going? Did Stiles even want to see him so soon after knowing the truth? 

His apprehension had been at its peak by the time he’d turned onto First street, named so because it was where the very first residence buildings had been built.  Relief and fear rendered him immobile on top of Belle when he saw Stiles exit the cabin his friends. Both emotions turned into self-consciousness when Stiles had looked up and saw him. It had made Derek sit straighter. 

If he was honest? Asking Stiles to go out with him for a picnic lunch was a blur. Derek couldn’t remember the words he’d used to ask Stiles out. All he remembered was Stiles’ eyes lighting up with curiosity when Derek had mentioned a surprise. And the whispered comment Stiles’ friend had made about a date. Derek had nearly cut himself with his own claws, unsure why he felt so mortified when that was exactly what today’s meeting with Stiles was.  But it had been a good date.

The start of the journey had been a little tense but things had gotten better fast.  The kelpie’s little prank however, Derek thought with a dark look over the lake, he wasn’t so pleased with.  He was trying to think of good ways to get back at Darren when Stiles’ quiet, “Nice tattoo.” broke the silence.

Derek turned to glance at Stiles. The man's cheeks were high with color, eyes glowing amber thanks to the fire light. A change in wind brought the spicy scent of Stiles’ arousal to him. Derek rolled his back on purpose, enjoying the catch it caused in Stiles’ breath, “Thank you.”

“Does it mean anything?” Stiles asked.

“Yes and no,” Derek said, throwing another piece of firewood into the pile before poking it, “A triskelion can mean many things. Traditionally it represents progress or competition. For werewolves, it can also represent alpha, beta and omega. But it’s also our pack symbol.”

As he sat down next to Stiles, the scent of arousal had faded away into keen interest. It returned however, when Derek slipped his jacket over his shoulders but didn’t zip it up. 

“I think Fenris talked about that,” Stiles replied quickly, too quickly, “He said some stuff about how every pack has its own symbol and it’s used to form a bond?”

Derek nodded, “Werewolves can feel the pack connection naturally. It’s instinct. But human pack members don’t have that. So for them, being tattooed by the symbol helps forge that connection.”

“Then…what about you? Why do werewolves get the tattoo then?” 

Derek threw another branch into the fire, enjoying the crackling noise rising out and the small flush of heat that came with it. “It’s like an identifying mark. You can tell which pack someone belongs too by seeing their tattoo. The Hale family has the triskelion. A lot of packs have different Celtic knots, including the triquetra.”

“That’s the trinity knot right?” Stiles interrupted eagerly, picking a stick up. He quickly sketched the three fold knot into the ground.

Nodding, Derek accepted the branch from Stiles and drew simplistic copies of the other pack symbols. “A lot of werewolves have the mark some place visible. Say, the back of their hand or arm. It’s a mark of pride to be accepted into a pack. But most people don’t like showing off like that. There’s no avoiding it for humans though. If they want to be a true member of the pack then they’ll  _ have  _ to get the tattoo of the pack symbol.”

As they continued to talk, the night sky grew darker and darker. It didn’t take long for the air to grow cool and for Stiles to start shivering again. Derek threw more firewood into the fire but it didn’t seem to help Stiles. Not even when he shuffled closer to the fire.  Derek cursed himself for not packing a second or thicker blanket. Why hadn’t he thought of packing a towel or a change of clothes for both of them?  Quickly, he wracked his brain for ideas, before finally arriving at one that he shouldn't be considering seriously but the way Stiles was starting to sneeze made him re-evaluate his stance. 

Derek shifted until they were shoulder to shoulder and then slipped his arm around Stiles’ shoulder. He pulled a frozen Stiles tight against his side, pursing his lips shut when he realized how this would cause Stiles to smell like him. The thought shouldn’t have delighted him as much as it did.  Other than the odd shocky noise Stiles had made at suddenly being hugged, he’d been quiet and still. Derek’s heart threatened to beat out of his chest in worry. 

“Is this alright?” He asked gruffly, “I don’t have another blanket or el-”

“No,” Stiles cut him off. His scent settled quickly, shifting from sharp surprise to a mellower,  _ deeper _ contentment. Derek felt a cool hand slide around his waist, shy fingertips pressing into his rib cage over his jacket, “This is nice. I mean. This is fine.” 

Their conversation forgotten, they sat cuddling in front of the fire in silence. Derek felt himself relaxing with every passing moment, enjoying this quiet moment with Stiles. The warm fire, Stiles’ happy scent surrounding him, and the steady beating of Stiles’ heart began to lull him into a sleepy haze.  He was so caught up in listening to Stiles’ heart that he nearly missed the sleepy-happy sigh Stiles let out. But there was no missing the head that fell on his shoulder. Derek carefully turned his head just enough to glance down at Stiles, who was staring into the fire with half open eyes. Fuck if the man didn't smell _good_ like this: happy and content.

“Thank you for today,” Stiles murdered over the crackling fire, “It was fun.”

Feeling warm all over, Derek gave Stiles’ shoulder a quick squeeze, “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” 

Stiles hummed, fingertips running up and down against Derek’s side. Derek wasn’t sure if he wanted those fingers to stay where they were or go under his jacket. A part of him wanted more, wanted to know what Stiles’ hands would feel against his skin. But another part of him wanted to savor this slow circling around they were doing. There was no need to rush things right?  With a quiet huff, Derek rolled his eyes at his past self and how deeply he’d been in denial over his feelings. Laura and Erica weren’t  _ ever  _ going to let him live this down.

“Can I ask you something?” Stiles asked suddenly, sounding a lot more awake.

It was the way Stiles’ scent subtly shifted, dulling, that caught Derek’s attention. “Of course.” Derek answered.

Stiles pulled back as well, blinking his drowsiness away. Derek felt cold almost immediately, watching Stiles run a hand through his hair and sigh. Apologetic brown eyes met his. “It’s about what you told me. About you and Paige and everything. It’s nothing bad!” Stiles quickly reassured him, turning to face Derek and touch his Derek, “Just. I was wondering about some things. I thought about what you told me and I needed some clarification.”

Wary, Derek nodded his consent. “Go ahead.” 

The smile Stiles gave him, and the way his hand lingered on his shoulder, gave Derek hope. The touch and his smile settled most of Derek’s nerves. But his stomach still felt like it was twisting itself into knots. He waited (im)patiently for Stiles to gather his thoughts. 

Stiles frowned, and asked, “When were you cursed? You never mentioned that.”

“After I was captured,” Derek answered. “I mentioned that I was taken to the castle dungeons, right? Argat and a few other noblemen brought a witch in to curse me.”

Stiles frowned, “And this was hundreds of years ago right? How come you’re  _ still  _ cursed? I mean, hasn’t anyone tried to break it? Figure out what the witches had done and try to reverse it?”

“A lot of people have tried but,” Derek shook his head, “No one’s found any kind of solution for it. The problem is that there’s no record of it. Everyone who knew the details about the cursed died a long time ago. And the coven responsible for making the curse? All their records were burned down.”

“There  _ has  _ to be  _ some  _ record of it somewhere. Maybe someone snuck some of their books or whatever out before it all got burned. You never know right?”

Derek shook his head. “If there is, they haven’t been found yet. And we tried really hard to track down  _ any  _ information like that. We still are.”

“How would you know that?” Stiles asked, tilting his head. “I mean, no offense but you guys have been here for years. How would you know if someone hasn’t found some spell book or something already?”

One of the branches popped merrily as it burned. “We’ve got people on the outside too,” Derek said. “Human families who migrated with us but instead of coming to the city with us, they spread out in the country to set up safe houses.”

“For any shifters who went out to study right? I remember Fenris talking about in his journal.”

Nodding, Derek answered, “Yes. But that's not the only reason why we've got people living out the city. They bring back knowledge, tools, all kinds of stuff we need in here. Those people have been searching for _years_ about any information they could find. And there’s the additional problem that all this happened in Ireland several hundreds of years ago.”

“So tracking the information down is more than a little hard,” Stiles said sympathetically, “It must be damn impossible.”

“That’s the long and the short of it,” Derek sighed.

“There’s something I was wondering too. You guys have a lot of stuff here that I honestly wasn’t expecting you to have. So I was wondering do you do supply runs too?”

“Every two weeks,” Derek nodded. “Once a month when winter sets in but we make sure to stock up then. A lot of the roads become impassable after a good storm. The nearest village has a lot of pack humans set up there. We go down, give them our orders, they put in another order, and our people bring it back eventually. It’s slow but it works.”

Stiles nodded before shaking his head, “Shit! I’m getting distracted, that’s not what I wanted to ask. I was also wondering if Fenris knew the real story. About what happened between you and...you know.”

With a small frown, Derek shrugged, “He never came to ask me directly. And I doubt any of the alpha’s had told him either. Or our emissary. The only people who know are… well, I told you that already. Fenris wasn’t important enough to know the truth. So, my guess would be no. I don’t think he knew.”

“Shit,” Stiles cursed again, running an agitated hand through his hair. Derek gave him a curious look. As soon as Stiles’ noticed Derek’s look, he explained, “His journal? The one I showed you? There’s a few pages missing from it. I had a theory that maybe Fenris had written the real story in it and that someone had ripped it out.”

“But why would anyone do that?” Derek asked.

Stiles shrugged helplessly, “I don’t know. Maybe they didn’t want the truth getting out? Outside, magical creatures are monsters in almost all fairy tales. I guess they didn’t want people to think you all could be... nice.”

As far as motives went, that sounded far too petty to Derek. “What else do you think those missing pages could have been about?”

“I don’t know,” Stiles frowned into the fire. “Whatever it is, it’s  _ got _ to be important. Why else would someone rip them out of the journal? The only thing I thought was important enough that someone would want to hide was the real reason why you all had to come here.”

That was a fair conclusion. Derek thought about what else could be important enough. What information could be so critical that they wanted to hide it? “It wasn’t about the journey here?” Derek asked, “Some information or clue about how to get here?” 

Stiles shook his head. “No. The first half of the book where he talks about his trip is intact. These pages were ripped somewhere near the end. A little before when he decided he wanted to go back to his homeland.” 

He thought long and hard but Derek couldn’t come up with anything. “I’m sorry,” Derek shook his head regretfully, “I have no idea what those missing pages might contain. I could ask my mother and see if she knows? About Fenris I mean.”

“I’d appreciate that,” Smiling, Stiles knocked their shoulders together. “And it’s okay. It was a shot in the dark anyways. Speaking of which,” His eyes turned up to the skies where the stars were starting to twinkle down at them, “Shouldn’t we be heading back soon?”

Loathe as he was at the idea, Derek nodded in agreement. He got up on his feet, holding his hand out for Stiles. Stiles gave him a quick heated look before accepting his hand and pulling himself up to his feet. As soon as, Stiles’ fingers were dragging against his palm and he took his hand back, walking towards their hanging clothes.  Derek clenched his hand into a fist. The first time he’d offered Stiles his hand, it had been a polite instinct. But every time after that had been deliberate. Because he’d wanted to feel Stiles’ hand against his own. Derek was caving into the simple desire to feel closer to Stiles.

They dressed quickly, Derek turning around to give Stiles some privacy. He made Stiles keep the blanket, saying, “You’ll need it more than I will.” Which was true. The nights were cold in Haven, and Stiles was going to feel it more than Derek would.  Before long, they were back on their horses, riding back to the city. Rather than taking on a brisk pace like they had earlier in the day, they ambled down the road lazily. It had been such a good day and Derek was loathe to let it end too soon. 

Derek was so lost in his thoughts that he missed the first two times Stiles called his name. It was only when he felt a touch on his shoulder that Derek came back.

“What?” He asked, startling when he realized Stiles was riding  _ right _ next to him. 

“Welcome back.” Stiles teased. “What was it like wherever you’d drifted away too?”

Scowling in embarrassment, Derek coughed and looked down the road. Like he was going to tell Stiles that he’d been thinking about Stiles and how he’d looked with his wet clothes sticking to his body. So instead he stared into the distance and the faint city lights he could make out.  The city was still far away but a faint glow was coming from it. Derek could imagine the lamp lighters walking around the city, forming the small fireballs that would burn inside their little glass chambers until the same people would return the next morning to extinguish them. He imagined his pack getting ready for dinner. Erica would most likely let the cat out of the bag about his date. 

_ ‘If she hasn’t already,’ _ He sighed at the thought.

“Bad thoughts?” Stiles’ gentle inquiry made him look up. 

That was twice he’d gotten too caught up in his own thoughts. “Not exactly,” Derek answered with a grimace and a sigh, “I was imagining how was family might react when they find out I’ve been out on a dat- out with you.”

He felt a coward choking on the word ‘date’ like that. But the rushed intake of air that came from Stiles told Derek that he’d picked up on it anyways. Derek couldn’t help but hold his breath in return, wondering how Stiles would react. 

“So... it  _ was _ a date?” Stiles finally asked. 

He wasn’t sure where he found his courage from, but Derek turned to face Stiles. There was no mistaking the faint hope shining in his eyes. Derek quietly held his hand out, saying, “It was.”

For a moment, as his hand hung in the empty air between them, Derek feared he’d misread Stiles. Misread all the signs. That he’d only imagined all the sidelong glances Stiles had kept stealing of him. That he’d seen only what he’d wanted to see.  But then Stiles smiled, beamed a wide smile and accepted his hand. Their fingers remained linked between all the way back.  They didn’t exchange any words after that, content with the innocent touch that kept them connected. But every so often they would exchange a glance and a grin before going back to staring at the dark road. It was only when they’d arrived outside Stiles’ cabin that they finally, regretfully, let go of each other.

Derek jumped off Belle, and walked over to help Stiles down. 

“I’ve got it,” Stiles laughed, nimbly hopping down before patting his jeans clean. “I never thought those horse riding lessons I had a kid would come in handy.” He turned to pat Silver’s nose, before offering his hand to Derek again. 

Derek was quick to accept it, greedy for any and all contact he could get. Stiles’ smile was bright enough to light up the sky. It soften however as they arrived at the door. For a moment they stood there, staring at the door and then at each other. 

“I had a great time today,” Stiles said softly.

Derek nodded, fingers squeezing Stiles’ hand, “I did too. It’s been a long time since I’ve enjoyed myself like this.”

“I’m glad I could be a part of that.”

There was a loud peel of laughter from inside the house, catching both their attention. They both stared at the door before looking back at each other. 

Regret filled Stiles’ eyes as he said, “I should... probably go. Tell the others I’m back.” 

While Stiles’ low words said one thing, the regretful look on his face implied the other. Derek nodded because could understand that sentiment. He knew he should be going home. No doubt his family would be worried about him.  He knew he should let go of Stiles’ hand, tell him good night, get on Belle, and get back home. But instead he raised his free hand to cup Stiles’ jaw. Something fierce and tender swelled in him when Stiles closed his eyes and turned his face into the warm palm, his quiet sigh brushing over Derek’s thumb. The trust that Stiles displayed towards Derek in that moment made the shifter shiver. 

When Stiles re-opened his eyes, Derek felt frozen in place. Time stood still as they stood gazing at each other. Derek’s focus narrowed in on Stiles. On the way his scent had turned - less nerves and more anticipatory as they breathed in the same air. Derek was hyper aware of Stiles’ hand coming up. Rising higher and higher until cool fingers wrapped around his wrist. 

Shivering, Derek wondered if Stiles could feel his nervous pulse under his fingertips. Or maybe Stiles could read his nervous desire written all over his face. Mouth dry, Derek had to remind himself to breathe. He was feeling light headed enough as he was.  Distantly he was aware of his thumb running over the lush curve of Stiles’ bottom lip. Over and over again he tested the shape of it and memorized its chapped softness. He only stopped when Stiles’ lips parted, a cool whisper of air rushing past his thumb and into Stiles’ mouth. Derek felt his lips parting as well. 

A sudden sharpness in Stiles’ eyes made some of the fog in Derek’s mind dissipate. Derek opened his mouth, ready to ask if something was wrong when Stiles muttered, “Oh screw it.” His other hand come up to Derek’s neck and used it to pull Derek in. And pressed his surprisingly soft lips against Derek’s.

Derek’s eyes flew open in surprise. And just quickly fell shut. In another split second, Stiles was pulling away. Derek felt like he’d been struck dumb. The kiss burned on his lips, just like how it had already burned itself into his memory.  It had been too short. Stiles’ lips had been off center. One of them had made a surprised little sound. The pressure had been centered on his top lip. 

It had been too quick and was a perfect kiss.

Mind and body pleasantly buzzed, he couldn’t help but mirror Stiles’ pleased little smile when he said, “Night.” 

“Good night.” Derek echoed with the same pleased smile.

* * *

“Night guys,” Stiles offered over his shoulder as he headed towards the stairs. Lydia and Danny’s voices floated up the stairs after him. Scott and Allison had gone out for a walk after dinner, as per their routine; it was the only alone time they got these days.

Everyone's been enjoying their alone time now that they're in the city.  Danny kept moving between trying to figure out a way to make his tech work inside the city (because in a very Hogwarts manner, their tech had stopped working as soon as they’d passed the barrier) and trying to get Stiles’ phone back into working condition.  With Danny taking up room in the kitchen, work spread all over the table, Lydia would park herself on the couch after dinner with a stack of books. S ometimes Stiles would sit with her, reading and discussing their findings deep into the night. Tonight however, Lydia had told him she was going to lie on the sofa and take a nap. Apparently she had a bad headache plaguing her.

So he decided he would head upstairs to read in bed until he’d fall asleep. Deaton had come through and found that diary for him. He’d sent it to him via Derek two days after their date. Which wound up turning into a second date where they went to the bookshop to find Derek’s books. They walked out almost two hours later with a small stack of books under their arm.  After a coffee and a snack, Derek had walked him back and kissed him again in front of the cottage. And this time, a  _ lot  _ of people saw them, including his friends, who’d been peeping from the window.  The teasing that Stiles had to endure. It was still going on a good day and a half later. 

“Sweet dreams about your werewolf,” Lydia teased. 

From the top of the stairs, Stiles answered, “ _ Very  _ original.” And jogged to his room to avoid hearing Lydia’s reply because if he didn’t hear her reply then it never happened and he’d won this battle. 

As he opened his bedroom door, Stiles heart a silky, unfamiliar voice ask, “Have a good meal?”

Turning on his heel, Stiles turned to face the corner where a pair of blue eyes shone at him. Fear filled Stiles as the door slammed close behind him. All Stiles could think as the back of his knees crashed into the bed was that he needed to be a lot more careful when entering seemingly empty rooms; this was the second time someone had gotten the drop on him while he was walking in.  And the  _ second  _ time he was caught unaware because he didn’t have his oil on him again. His dad was going to  _ kill him  _ for being so damned careless.

Moving away from the blue eyes, Stiles’ hands searched for a weapon, anything heavy enough would suffice at this point. Weren’t there two chairs in his room? Wait. Shit. They were on the other side of the room, where the intruder was. Books! He had Derek’s huge books on his side table.  Stiles scrambled to grab the first book he could get his hands on. He’d gotten his hands wrapped around one when the intruder laughed, low and amused. Two sharp snaps rang through the room. The lights immediately began to glow, illuminating the guy who had been waiting for him in his room. He was broad shoulders, kinda bulky, dark haired and had a goatee.  Something about the way he raised a judgmental eyebrow rang familiar. 

“What do you plan on doing with that?” The man asked while staring pointedly at the book in his hands.

“Weapon.” Stiles replied, frowning when the man laughed. “I could hurt you with this!”

The man raised his hands up in mock surrender, smirking so hard Stiles thought it was a wonder his face hadn’t split in two. “I’m sure you could do some serious damage with ‘Haven: A Concise History’ but it’s no match for these.” Stiles’ felt his heart race when claws grew from the fingertips.  _ Shit _ . The guy was a shifter.

Defenses on high, Stiles quickly glanced around, looking for a likely escape path.  The room was small, with two exit options - the door or the window. The window was closer but latched shut. That would give the guy more than enough time to grab Stiles. The door was further away but it was unlocked. But because the guy was a shifter, he could probably catch him.

Stiles licked his lips, wondering if he could shout for help. Scott and Allison had gone off on their walk roughly ten minutes ago, so there was no chance of Scott using his advanced hearing to overhear this. But Lydia and Danny  _ might _ be able to hear him if he shouted for help hard enough. Provided they weren’t too caught up in their own thing.

“I wouldn’t think about calling for help,” The man said pleasantly, like they were making small talk instead of standing off against each other. “One wrong move and I’ll kill you. Then I’ll go downstairs and kill your friends. I’ll wait for your best friends to come home and then kill them too.”

A chill overtook him, freezing him all the way down to his marrow. There was a coldness in the man's eyes that made Stiles believe him; that wasn't an empty threat.  Swallowing his bitterness, Stiles slowly lowered his book. 

The man smiled, pleased, “Good choice. Sit. Not over there by the bed. Come over here. I want to see you in the light.”

_ ‘That didn’t sound creepy at all.’ _ Stiles thought, watching the man turn the two seats so that they were facing each other instead of facing the bed. He lowered himself into one of the chairs, smiling placidly as he waited for Stiles to sit down.

After a second of hesitation, Stiles lowered himself into the empty chair. His eyes went to the empty vase that sat on the table between them. He probably wouldn’t be able to move fast enough to knock this guy out with the vase, could he?  Grimacing, Stiles looked up and glared at the guy. Who was leaning back in his seat, smirking as he observed Stiles. There was something vaguely familiar about this guy. But Stiles was  _ sure  _ he hadn’t seen him before. He  _ had _ met a lot of people over the course of the last week, and seen twice as many during his trips out. But he’d have remembered a sleazy looking guy like this one.

“So you’re the boy that everyone’s talking about,” The man finally said, tilting his head, “I imagined someone... sturdier. Less gangly. Someone with an actual presence.”

Offended, Stiles snapped, “I’d rather be  _ gangly _ than look like a walking cereal box!” 

There was a second where they  _ both _ were shocked at his words. Stiles quietly said goodbye to his father, and hoped he would never find out Stiles’ had died because he’s insulted and antagonized the shifter who’d broken into his room. 

“Walking cereal box?” The man repeated slowly.

Stiles nodded weakly, finger sketching the man’s shape out. “’cuz you’re a rectangle?””

There was another pause, one where Stiles imagined all the gruesome ways he was about to be killed. It was going to be slow and painful and-

The man was chuckling.

It was low but the guy was  _ laughing _ . “I like you,” He declared with a large grin, “I can see why my nephew likes you.”

“Your... nephew?” Stiles repeated slowly because what?  _ Who _ ? 

“Derek. I’m his Uncle Peter.”

Stiles stared long and hard at the man, struggling to find a familiar resemblance. Maybe the nose? Oh. The eyebrow raise from before. Derek had done the same whenever Stiles had made some modern cultural reference, silently questioning Stiles and mildly judging him at the same time. 

“Say that I believe you,” Stiles began, “not that I’m saying that I am! Because you could be a liar for all I know trying to make me let my guard down. But if you are who you say who you are, what are you doing here? And how the hell did you get into my  _ room _ ?”

"The window, obviously." Peter laid his linked fingers together in his lap, smiling widely. “Like I told you. I’m here to see the man  _ everyone’s _ talking about. Do you have any idea how  _ rare _ it is?”

“What? Humans coming to Haven?” Stiles asked, feeling like he’d missed something, “I thought new people came in every few-”

With a sharp hand wave, Peter cut Stiles off mid-sentence, “Not that. A human walking into the city  _ on his own _ . Walking through the barrier like it wasn’t even  _ there _ . Deaton must have explained this. I was told you’d talked to him in detail.”

Stiles nodded slowly.  “He didn’t explain how that happened or why. He just asked me a lot of questions about how I passed.” 

“And how  _ did _ you do that?” Peter asked, one claw digging circles into the wood. Wait, they weren’t circles. It was a spiral. Weird _and _creepy. 

With an annoyed sigh, Stiles asked, “Seriously? You’re going to ask me that too? I get the feeling you already know this.”

“Humor me.”

The sharp smile Peter gave him reminded Stiles of his earlier threat. “I was taking a walk around our camp and I thought I saw someone. When I waved my flashlight around I saw someone trying to hide. When they ran, I followed. I chased them all the way to the end of the cave end. I saw them go through the vines and I followed. I didn’t feel  _ anything _ .”

A shiver ran down his spine when Peter’s gaze sharpened. While first he’d been watching Stiles like he was a play thing,  _ now _ he was staring at Stiles like he was a freaking lab experiment. Something Peter wanted to dissect open and study.  The back of his throat itched, drying out the longer Peter stared at him. The shifter had begun to tap his claws against the chair again. A slow, contemplative drumming. Tap-tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap-tap.  His eyes drifted down to the spirals Peter had carved into the wood. There were seven of them. Was there anything significant about that shape? A pack symbol? Stiles couldn’t remember Derek showing him any one of those that were a spiral… 

“Do you know why we put a barrier around the city?” Peter finally asked, fingers still tap-tap-tap-ing, “On top of all the traps that led up to it.”

Stiles waited a beat, checking to see if Peter wanted him to answer, “For protection. You didn’t want anyone coming in unannounced. That’s the whole point of a barrier” 

Nodding, Peter said, “Correct. That is the objective of more barriers - to stop unwanted parties from entering a certain space. You can pick which people can come and go. Other’s need to be given permission before they can step in. But let me ask you something. What is the most basic assumption people make when setting a barrier?”

The most basic assumption? Stiles frowned, “They want to protect their space. Make sure no one gets to it.”

“More basic than that,” Peter replied. 

Thinking harder about it, Stiles wasn’t sure what kind of answer Peter was looking for. 

“The most basic assumption most people make when they’re setting a barrier is that, any intruder who is trying to come in means harm. They believe that anyone who is trying to come in without permission, intents to do bad things,” Peter pointed out the window, “Our barrier is  _ slightly _ different.”

"How's that?"  Damn his curiosity. It really might lead him into an early grave like his father had predicted a long time ago. 

Peter smiled. A sharp and pleased smile.  “Intent.” Peter explained. “Our barrier has one objective - to keep out any and all people, human or otherwise, who want to harm us. Anyone who looks for this city with the intent to harm us, will  _ never _ find us. What do you suppose would happen if someone approaching the barrier doesn’t hold  _ any  _ bad intentions? When all they want is to help someone else.”

Understanding dawned in a flash. “That’s why he kept asking me what I’d been thinking about when I was in the cave.” Stiles breathed out. 

“Exactly. Because you had no ill intentions and never meant to cause harm, the barrier didn’t see you as a threat and let you walk in.” Peter’s claws went back in as he linked his fingers together again, “Deaton suspects there’s more to it than that however. The ease with which you manipulated the mountain ash suggests you’ve got a rare magical gift.”

Suspicious and distrustful, Stiles frowned at Peter, “How do you even know all of this? Have you been sneaking into other people’s houses and black mailing information from them too?

Peter smiled enigmatically, “You could say it’s my job to know things. I’m part of a group whose responsibilities include taking out threats and keeping an eye on things.”

Snorting loudly, Stiles asked, “What are you? The werewolf police?” 

“We are exactly that.” 

The hard look Peter pinned him down with made Stiles’ incredulous humor dry out in an instant. If Peter’s job was to watch out for threats, and was currently sitting in Stiles’ room interrogating him then clearly he thought Stiles was dangerous. This was no time to let his guard down.

He couldn’t help but stiffen defensively when Peter pushed himself out of the chair. “How much do you know about us? Werewolves I mean.”

“Only what Isaac’s told us,” Stiles answered warily, watching Peter walk up to the window. There wasn’t much of a view, even with his room being on the first floor. It was a new moon tonight, meaning a deep darkness was set over the valley. Maybe Peter could make the sights out better thanks to his superior eyesight. Or maybe he was just being dramatic.  Stiles couldn’t tell.  When Peter stood there and stared out the window, like the dark view was the greatest, most thought provoking sight he’d ever seen, Stile quietly decided the man had a dramatic streak in him. How delightful. 

“Did he explain what different eye colors mean?” Peter asked, glancing at Stiles. “Red, gold, blue?”

Stiles frowned and shook his head, “No.”

“Mm. I thought not. Allow me to enlighten you then. You know about alpha’s and beta’s, yes? Alpha’s have red eyes. Beta’s have gold. And some beta’s can have cold blue eyes. Like me and Derek.” Peter flashed the brilliant color at Stiles before asking, “Any guesses or theories about the different color?”

“Off the top of my head?” Stiles began with a frown, “could be a genetic thing, could be a magical indicator, a status symbol, some glamour. There could be a hundred reasons for it.”

Peter nodded in acquiescence, “Let me ask you something else then. You know about Derek’s past, right?”

What was with the non-sequitur questions? Stiles rolled his eyes, wondering if Peter had a worse tendency to jump from topic to topic than he did. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Everything,” Peter replied, hands clasped behind his back, “You see, when you kill an innocent, it darkens the werewolf soul. The eyes darken as a result. It’s our dirty little secret. Everyone knows it but no one talks about it. It’s why so many rumors surround Derek.”

Too many thoughts crashed into each other. The only survivor, the one thought that crawled out of the wreckage out of that mental train crash, made Stiles jump to his feet. Fear shot through him as he stared at Peter. 

A cold feeling quickly spread throughout his chest when Peter smiled. “You understand.”

“You  _ killed _ someone?” Stiles hissed. “An innocent person?”

“It’s interesting  _ that’s _ what you choose to focus on.” 

Stiles’ heart made a valiant effort to crawl up his gullet when the shifter began to walk towards him, every step smooth and contemplative. “I would have thought,” Peter said slowly, “you’d be concerned that  _ Derek _ killed someone. But instead you’re worried about me.” 

“Of course I’d be worried about being trapped in the same room with a guy who just admitted to killing  _ innocent people _ !” Stiles hissed, fingers wrapping around the chair. Weapon, his mind reminded him sharply. 

But fear paralyzed him when Peter’s countenance shifted in a split second. Blue eyes and fangs flashed at him. One second Peter was standing by the window and the next, he was pushing Stiles up against the wall, his clawed hands wrapped around the human’s throat. Being held several inches off the floor, his feet banged against the chair, causing his ankle to throb. His hands clawed at Peter’s hand but the shifter was just too strong.

“I had every  _ right _ !” Peter roared in his face, “Those people were responsible for killing my  _ wife _ ! My  _ children _ ! I had  _ every right _ !” 

Stiles was growing light headed; his lungs were on fire. There was a pounding sensation growing in the back of his head, spreading until he felt like his entire _body _throbbed. Stiles feebly kicked his legs, hoping one would catch Peter unawares but it was useless. He choked on a word he couldn’t recognize, gasping for what little air that he could inhale.

And with the same suddenness that Peter had grabbed him, Stiles was dropped. He fell to the floor like a sack of bricks, gasping and wheezing as his tailbone began to throb in pain. Stiles gratefully gulped in large lungful’s of air, unable to hear anything over the sound of his heart beating in his ears. A whistling-numbness filled his ears within a minute.  His vision swam, steadying eventually as he watched Peter pace the room, ranting so loudly Stiles could make the words out even over his numb ears.

“Argat and his people were the ones who are the real killers. They’re the ones who  _ massacred _ hundreds and thousands of innocent people who were either peacefully living with humans or were associated with magical creatures.  My pregnant wife was human. Two of my children were human. Argant and his hunters still killed them all just because she choose to make a life with me! Talia’s husband was human.  _ Emily _ was human!  _ They _ were all  _ innocent _ .” Peter snarled the words out, every syllable dripped with hate. 

Stiles remained sitting on the floor, holding his aching throat as Peter ranted and raged. He flinched every time Peter would turn to look at him. His feet struggled to get under him when Peter walked up to him. He was pulling out his crouch when Peter grabbed him by the shirt and dragged him to his feet. 

“I had every right to extract revenge on the people who hated me for no reason other than the fact that I was a werewolf! They’re the ones who started this war by killing innocent people out of hate. I’m only playing by the rules that  _ they _ set.”

Fear like he’d never known it slammed through him. He could feel time freezing and stretching. His breathing stuttered along with his heart. Stiles gasped as the corner of his vision began to grow dark. Not now. Not now! This time when he scratched Peter’s hands, he somehow managed to free himself. Maybe Peter hadn’t expected the sheer vehemence with which Stiles attacked him, however feebly. Stiles staggered away, slamming into his bed. He fell face down onto the rough sheets, and gasped.  He couldn’t breathe. Shit. He couldn’t  _ breathe _ . 

Someone was calling his name from far away. And it was cold. So cold. But that couldn’t be because he was sweating. Stiles could feel the drops rolling down his face as he tried to breathe. There was pressure on his back. Someone was touching him. Stiles shuddered and recoiled so hard he banged into the side table. H e  _ hated _ it when someone touched him in the middle of a panic attack.  Shit.  He was having a full blown panic attack.

He caught a flash of red hair and pale skin. 

“Stiles?” A familiar voice called, high and worried. “Stiles, are you okay?” 

Lydia? What was Lydia doing upstairs? 

“He’s having a panic attack,” A second voice said. Deeper, smoother. Boyd? What was he doing here too? “Peter, what did you do?”

Peter’s reply was too low for him to catch. But Stiles did catch the ugly noise of disbelief Boyd made. “Sure. Just having a conversation, my ass. Lydia, can you go get some water? I’ll wait here. Keep an eye on them both.”

Lydia left the room immediately, jogging out the door. Shit. She must be really worried about him if she was hurrying like that. 

“Stiles?” Boyd’s face slowly came into focus. He was a little blurry around the edges. But his voice got his worry across well enough. “Stiles, can you hear me? Nod if you can.”

It took a herculean amount of effort for Stiles to raise his head up and down once. But it was worth it when he saw the relief spreading over Boyd’s face. 

“Good. Okay. Tell me what you need.”

Stiles opened his mouth, wanting to talk but struggling with the numbness that had spread all the way down to his fingertips. He swallowed a couple of times, wetting his throat before croaking out, “Breathing.”

“You can’t breathe?” Boyd asked in the same low, soothing voice. Stiles gasped and nodded. His lungs  _ burned _ with the effort it took to inhale and exhale. It was like there wasn’t any damned air in the room. “Okay, follow my lead. Inhale.” Boyd inhaled loudly. Stiles poorly mimicked him. “Exhale.” Together they breathed out for twice as long as they had inhaled. “Again.”

Lydia returned shortly, glass of water in hand. She knelt down in front of Stiles, helping him drink a few sips before sitting back with the half empty glass in hand. Stiles held his hand out towards her, smiling weak but grateful when she immediately accepted it and squeezed.

Using Lydia’s touch and Boyd’s instructions as anchor, Stiles repeated the breathing exercise over and over again until he didn’t feel like he was drowning. And by the end of it, he felt completely drained. Stiles gestured weakly at the half-empty glass resting next to Lydia, gulping the water down greedily before sighing.

“That wasn’t my fault,” Peter said from his corner, “I just want to make that clear.”

While Stiles and Lydia shot him identical glares, Boyd rolled his eyes as he stood up. “Of course it wasn’t. It’s never your fault is it?” He asked sarcastically, “It doesn’t matter how far you go with your methods or how you might hurt people. But it’s  _ never  _ your fault. And what’re you doing here anyways?”

“I  _ had  _ been talking with Stiles about the circumstances under which he’d arrived into the city before you and this girl so rudely interrupted me. I did nothing wrong. Talia said I could.” 

Ignoring the pair, Stiles flapped his hand at Lydia, grunting, “Help me up.” 

  
He wasn’t about to have this conversation while sitting on the floor. It sadly took him a while to shake the jelly legs off but eventually he was standing on his own two feet. Watching Boyd grow increasingly irate while Peter acted like Boyd wasn’t any better than a fly buzzing around his head.  Boyd’s neutral expression was cracking around the edges, his eyes burning while Peter swept his palms down his jacket, sweeping any non-existent wrinkles out.

“I really don’t like that guy.” Lydia muttered into his ear, “Who is he anyways?

“Peter Hale. Derek’s uncle,” Stiles murmured back, sitting down on his creaky bed, “He was waiting for me in my room. The light were turned off so I didn’t see him till he snapped them on. Where’s Danny by the way?” 

Shooting Boyd and Peter a look to make sure they were still arguing, Lydia sat down next to Stiles and continued in the same low tone, “Left to see Matt right after you went upstairs. And you didn’t have your oil on you?” 

The judgement in her tone made Stiles fingers itch with the desire to flip her off. Oh, what the hell. He gave her the one finger salute with a sarcastic little smile.  Lydia immediately slapped his arm  _ hard. _ Jesus! What was with her and slapping him whenever he messed up? Why couldn’t she pull his nose or steal his pillow or something else that wouldn’t hurt. 

“This isn’t funny!” She hissed at him, eyes blazing in worried anger, “Who knows what could have happened! You’re damn lucky he didn’t hurt you anymore than he did.”

“There, see,” Peter was saying, waving a lazy hand at Stiles, “He’s perfectly fine. One energy tonic and he’ll be back to normal.”

Three glares locked onto him immediately. Unfazed, Peter put the knocked chair back in its place before sitting down in it. 

“What are you doing here anyways?” Lydia asked, crossing her arms over her chest, “And how the hell did you get in here?”

“I came here to ask Stiles a few questions,” Peter answered, “and I came in through the window.” 

His gaze, which had been locked on Stiles, ticked to see her before quickly returning to linger. The bland smile faded into a thoughtful frown. Like he was really seeing her for the first time.  Displeased and surprised at suddenly being the focus of Peter’s attention, Lydia jerked back. Stiles could tell she had she been standing, she would have taken a step back.

Thankfully, Boyd stepped in between them, standing face to face with Peter as he asked, “Is there any reason you couldn’t use the front door?” He asked sarcastically. “I know you like your dramatics, but why did you sneak into his room? What was stopping you from acting like a normal person like the rest of us?”

Peter tilted his head, smiling saccharine sweet at the human, “I knew I’d get better results this way.”

“You threatened to  _ kill me _ and my friends,” Stiles snarled. 

Boyd’s head snapped from Stiles to Peter, expression darkening when the older werewolf shrugged, “The end justified the means. I got the answers that I was looking for.” 

Stiles gaped while Boyd visibly struggled to keep his temper in check. “I’m going to tell Talia about this,” he began in a low growl, “We’ll see what she has to say.”

“By all means,” Peter smoothly replied, “Tell everyone if you want to. My sister won’t say a word because  _ I’m _ simply doing my job.” He eyed Boyd thoughtfully before admitting, “I could say the same for you I suppose. Who sent you?”

“Laura. She told me to follow you.”

Peter rolled his eyes, sighing theatrically. “And you followed her orders like the good little puppy that you are. You’ve more than made up your debt to Laura and Derek, Vernon. It’s about time you stepped out of their shadows.”

Lydia and Stiles exchanged a puzzled look, both of them wondering what kind of debt Peter was talking about. “Don’t call me that.” Boyd returned like a shot. “It’s none of your business what I owe them.” 

Stiles made a mental note to ask Scott. Maybe Isaac had mentioned the debt thing to Scott or Allison. Had the siblings saved Boyd’s life or something?  The sound of a downstairs door banging open cut their conversation short. While Stiles and Lydia jumped, Peter’s gaze snapped to the door, and Boyd asked, “What the hell?” 

“Help!” Stiles heard Allison’s voice shout out from downstairs, panic bleeding from every word. “Stiles! Lydia! Is anyone home? I need help!”

He immediately got on his feet, ignoring how weak and shaky he felt. Boyd darted out the door, face tight with worry. The stress in Allison’s voice pulled Stiles’ downstairs as well, like a siren song. Peter’s jovial expression had disappeared. His face was hard as he swiftly followed in Boyd’s footsteps.  Lydia took a step forward as well before remembering him. 

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this.” She said in a shaky voice, pulling his arm over her shoulder, “I’ve also got a tonic in my stash that you should take. It’ll give you an energy boost.” 

“As soon as we’re done with whatever…” Stiles gestured at the approaching stairs and whatever problem that lay there. Lydia nodded once and walked faster. It was a challenge getting downstairs when Stiles felt like he was running on zero battery and Lydia was intent on getting them downstairs as soon as possible.  They nearly tripped down the stairs twice but wound up on the landing in one piece. Which was where they paused to stare at the large puddle of black…  _ something _ that lay just outside the open front door. Tar? Goop? Wait...

“What the hell?” Stiles asked, “Is that blood?" His eyes followed the line of drops that went towards the kitchen. He could hear loud, rushed voices coming from there too. What the hell had happened? Did someone try to hurt Allison or Scott? 

Lydia shook her head. “Can't be blood. It’s too dark. Almost black.  She dragged the toe of her boot over the edge and frowned at the black smear, “Too thick too. It looks like tar but the consistency is all wrong.” 

Trepidation mixed with fear and adrenaline into a cocktail more effective than any energy drink. As one, Stiles and Lydia hurried towards the kitchen.  Throwing the door open, they saw Scott sitting on the table. Even though his face was paler than death, and he was gritting his teeth as Boyd stood behind him, staring intently at his back. His friend was clutching his arm, from which the thick black liquid was dripping down and onto the floor. 

The wound looked like…

“Did someone  _ stab  _ you?” Stiles gasped, stumbling forward, “What the hell happened? Who the hell stabbed you? And why the  _ hell  _ is your blood  _ black _ ?”

Stiles was ready to grab Scott when Lydia pulled him back, “Let Boyd check him out. Allison.” She turned towards her friend, “Tell us what happened.”

“I don’t know! It all happened to fast!” Allison’s panicked eyes went to Scott and back to them within a second, “One minute we were walking down the road and the next…”

Lydia reached out to hold Allison’s face, “Honey. You need to calm down. We can’t help you otherwise. Okay? Stiles, get her some water. Here, you sit down.”

After drinking two glasses of water, Allison had calmed down enough to give them the details of what had happened. “We were walking down the main road. Just me and Scott. And I thought I heard something. Like, I heard a rustling noise? So I thought it might have been a deer. But the next thing I knew, we were being attacked!”

“What?” Lydia asked sharply just as Peter asked, “Did you see who attacked you?”

Allison looked up at the interruption, giving Peter a confused look before answering Lydia, “Yeah. Scott went towards the trees to see if it was a deer or not but then these… people, I guess? Jumped out and attacked him. It was too dark to tell who they were. They just, jumped out, stabbed Scott a few times and ran away before I could catch them.”

Everyone stared at the brunette in confusion, “I’m confused…” Stiles began, looking at Scott. Boyd was balling Scott’s shirt up and throwing it away. 

Stiles forgot what he was going to say when he saw that Scott had  _ multiple  _ stab wounds. And  _ all  _ of them were bleeding black blood. Stiles counted at least 10 stab marks and thought it was a miracle Scott  _ hadn’t _ passed out because of blood loss. Which made him wonder how much blood a werewolf would have to lose to pass out.

“You’re telling me you guys got attacked but whoever it was just hurt you and left. They didn’t try to kill you or anything?” Lydia wound up finishing for him in a confused voice

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Scott shrugged apologetically, wincing in immediate regret. He tried to roll his shoulder to relieve the pain but it made him cringe harder. Boyd’s face tightened in worry as he moved back to examine the cut on Scott’s back. “These guys came outta nowhere, pulled their knives out to stab me and just... ran off.”

“And what’s the explanation for the black liquid you’re bleeding all over the floor?” Lydia asked, pulling a handkerchief out of a pocket. She carefully dipped one corner in the viscous liquid before folding the cloth around it. When Stiles gave her a curious look, she explained, “Sample.”

Peter was the one who answered. “Poison. Check his wounds. Is there a branch like pattern around the cut? With the dark lines?”

Boyd didn’t even look at Scott before nodding, expression growing dark. Peter looked pleased and disgruntled. 

“My guess is the blades were dipping in aconitum. It would explain why they were quick to run away. All they had to go was stab him once and the poison would do its job. It’s a slow moving poison but given the amount of times they’ve stabbed him, it’s going to take about half a day instead of the usual 24 hours.  You’re lucky none of them managed to stab you near the heart. You would have died before making it back here.”

He didn’t know how but Peter’s words somehow made Scott’s pallor go worse. Stiles shot the older werewolf a glare before asking, “Aconitum? That’s wolfsbane isn’t it? I know it’s poisonous to humans but it can hurt shifters too?”

Exhaling an exasperated sigh, Peter replied, “You need to stop referring to us as ‘shifters’. We’re  _ werewolves _ . And yes. It’s one of the few things that can really hurt us. It's also what we need to heal the wounds.”

Stiles’ brain worked on overtime, trying to remember what the flowers looked like. They were small, purple flowers, right? Bell shaped bunches growing on a stalk? He had seen a small field of them growing somewhere between here and the lake. Maybe there was a smaller patch somewhere nearby. 

“Why would anyone want to harm Scott?” Allison was asking in utter bewilderment. 

As he wiped away the thick blood from Scott’s body with a damp cloth, Boyd asked, “They didn’t try to go after you?” He asked Allison, eyes moving away from Scott for a quick second. 

“No!” Allison exclaimed, “They headed straight for Scott. When I saw them jump him, I ran forward and started to fight them off but I’d barely gotten a couple of punches in before they ran away.”

It made no sense. None whatsoever. Why would anyone make Scott the target of an attack like this? Who would even do that? Stiles’ brain felt like it was trying to find logic in a sea of nonsense. He needed a distraction;  Stiles took a step forward to examine Scott’s injuries for himself. It was like Peter had said. Around every wound the skin had darkened and from there, dark branches were spreading out under Scott’s skin. His hand reached out to touch the large cut on Scott’s shoulder black. 

As soon as his fingertips connected with skin, Scott jerked and hissed, “Ow! That hurts!”

“Sorry! Sorry!” Stiles apologized immediately, looking back at Allison, “You were saying?”

She shook her head, rolling the empty glass between her hands, “Not much to tell after that. When we were sure they weren’t coming back, we started to walk back. It didn’t take long for Scott to notice he was still bleeding.”

“Then I started to feel really weak.” Scott added, accepting the cloth Boyd had given him and pressed it against the deep cup on his forearm, “I thought it mighta been blood loss but we figured out pretty fast it wasn’t that.”

He turned towards Boyd with a worried look, “Is it supposed to feel this bad? I feel like... Like I’m burning up from the inside.”

It was Peter however, who answered. “That’s the poison working its way into your blood stream. You’ll feel a lot worse before you feel better.”

Scott gave the older man a bewildered look and asked, “Who _are_ you?”

But Peter was already moving forward, “Vernon, get this man to Deaton right away. He knows how to reverse the damage. Make sure to bandage the wounds. You don’t want him bleeding all over the city.”

Allison was on her feet in a flash, “I’ve got a first aid kit upstairs.”

She was on her way out when Peter reached out to grab her arm, stopping her in place. “One last question before you leave,” Peter said, ignoring the ugly look she gave him while tugging on her arm. “Did you get a clear look at your assailants?”

“No.” Allison snarled, yanking her arm back. “They were wearing masks.”

“There were four guys. They knew how to fight,” Scott interrupted. Boyd wordlessly handed Stiles a wet washcloth and quietly told him to help clean Scott up. They tried to wipe the black liquid up as gently as possible but were largely unsuccessful.  As a result, Scott kept pausing or hissing in pain as he spoke. “Smelled familiar. But I couldn’t tell who they were. They wore masks. Dark clothes. I think one of them was a girl.”

Stiles frowned, hands continuing to scrub Scott’s skin clean. “You think it’s someone you know?”

After a thoughtful pause, Scott shrugged. “Could be? I really couldn’t tell. I was a little too busy trying not to get stabbed some place important. But probably?” 

Allison returned with an armful of bandages in hand. She passed one roll to Stiles, another to Boyd before picking one for herself. Stiles turned the question to her. “What about you, Ally? Think you knew any of the guys?”

Her hands moved swiftly and surely around Scott’s thigh, “I’m not sure. But they knew us. They had to. I’m pretty sure I hear one of them yell ‘Go after the shifter!’ So they at least knew that Scott’s a werewolf. You don’t think it was a hate crime, was it?”

Boyd shook his head immediately, “Stuff like that has  _ never  _ happened here. No human attacks a magical being and vice versa. If you tried that you’d be kicked out of the city immediately.”

Stiles frowned. They needed to focus on the facts here. A bunch of masked guys thought they could get the jump on Scott. They knew Scott was a werewolf. Their objective had clearly been to poison Scott. They’d known that the poison would swiftly do its work, whether they hit Scott’s heart or not. They hadn't gone after Allison. They smelled familiar to Scott.  What stood out to Stiles was that these people knew what they doing. And they either had to be really strong or _really_ foolish trying to take a werewolf on. But who would do that? Who would go after Scott in this way. If they knew that he was a…

A gear clicked into his mind, a possible connection beginning to form in his mind. The gauze dropped out of his frozen hand.  “Stiles, what?” 

Stiles reached out to grab Allison’s elbow, cutting her off with an urgent, “Did they say that?” He asked hurriedly, “Actually say that?”

“Say what?” Allison asked, shaking his hand off to finish tying a knot around the gauze she’d finished wrapping around Scott’s thigh. 

“‘Go after the shifter’. Did they  _ actually _ say that?” His eyes peered into Allison’s eye, a very,  _ very _ bad theory forming in the back of his mind, “Are you sure they said that  _ exact _ sentence?” 

Allison gave him a weird look, “Yeah, pretty sure. It’s the only thing they said.”

He groaned, grimacing as he pressed the heels of his palms against his foreheads in a useless attempt to squeeze the impending headache out. This was a grade-A shit storm heading their way if Stiles was right. And he prayed to God that he wasn’t right because this could get ugly. Very ugly, very fast.

“Stiles?” Scott asked cautiously, “What is it?”

“I think it was someone from our camp,” Stiles groaned, rubbing circles into his forehead. The pounding in his head was gradually rising. “If they said ‘shifter’ then they  _ had _ to be someone from our group. The people here don’t call each other that! They call each other werewolf, mermaid, satyr, whatever they are! Humans, us guys on the outside are the ones who call them shifters!”

He could see Boyd’s gaze turn to him. The prickly feeling that shot down his spine meant Peter was staring at him too. “It can’t be!” Allison gasped, shaking her head. The few strands of hair that had come loose from her braid flew. “Why would they?”

Stiles rolled his eyes, gesturing helplessly, “I don’t know! What do I look like? Answers-R-Us? I’m just making an educated guess here! I can’t tell what goes on in the mind of nut jobs who attack people when they’re out having a walk!”

From the doorway a new voice interrupted, “What the hell happened here?”  Everyone turned to stare at Danny, who stood in the doorway. His face went from confused to shocked to concerned when he caught sight of Scott, “What the hell happened to  _ you _ ?” 

Stiles opened his mouth to explain when a small set of hands shoved him out of the way. Stumbling back, Stiles glared at Lydia, who had picked up the fallen gauze and was swiftly wrapping up the last of Scott’s wounds. 

“You can play detective all you want later.” She snapped. “Right now we need to get Scott to someone who can help him! And if we’re going to Deaton then he’s all the way across town and we need to get moving.”

Right. Lydia was right. Stiles could see everyone coming to the same conclusion. “Right. Okay, we need a plan. Allison, could you get another shirt for Scott? Something that’ll be easy to get in and out of? Peter, you need to-” Boyd’s voice trailed off as he looked around the room. “Shit!” 

The curse made Stiles look around as well.  The lace curtains in front of the open window fluttered gently.  Peter was gone.

“I hate it when he does that,” Boyd ground out.  Allison was back in a few minutes, holding onto a short sleeved shirt that she quickly helped Scott into. “Can you walk?” Boyd asked the other man.

Scott tried to stand on his feet and nodded, “For now. I’m feeling a little shaky though.”

They’d barely taken two steps out the door when Danny asked, “Uh guys. That’s not what I think it is… right?”

As one, they turned to look at the city. Stiles felt his blood turn to ice inside his veins. There was a distinct orange glow haloing some buildings.

“That… looks like fire,” Stiles rasped.

“Should we call someone? Tell someone?” Lydia asked Boyd, turning to face him. But the man was frozen in shock. 

“Uh guys…” Allison interrupted, “We might have a bigger problem on our hands.” 

Stiles gestured wildly at the orange glow that was rising up in the sky just a few street down, “A bigger problem than the city on  _ fire _ ?”

Allison pointed at the cottages around them. Stiles stared at the dark windows and frowned. What was Allison implying? It looked like no one was home. Wait a fucking minute.

“Where the hell is everyone?” Stiles asked in confusion.  He turned to the group for an answer. Everyone else looked as confused as he did.  Except Lydia.

Lydia who had pulled her tarot card set out of nowhere and was crouching down on the ground. She was shuffling the cards together. Stiles took a step towards her, asking, “Lydia? What’re you doing?”

But she ignored him, spreading the cards on the ground before pulling three cards out. She flipped them over – fwip, fwip, fwip. 

Death. The Tower. The Devil.

Stiles found himself taking a step back in shock. 

Lydia pursed her lips together before saying, “I’ve got a bad feeling about this. Allison, go get your crossbow. I’m going to get some of my own stuff. Danny, do you have anything you can use?” When the man shook his head, Lydia turned to Stiles, “You have your oil on you?”

Stiles pulled the bottle out of its place. Nodding sharply, Lydia suggested he grab another bottle, “Grab your whole bag actually. I think I know what’s going on and if I’m right then you’re going to need more than one bottle tonight. Come on. Let’s move. The sooner we get to Deaton the better.” 

**Author's Note:**

> the next part, Book 3, is the climax and conclusion, and it's a whomping 82k!!!


End file.
